The Capitol Games II
by FlawlessCatastrophe
Summary: When the rebels decided to host a Hunger Games for the children of the Capitol, the 76th Hunger Games, they never expected it to backfire and become a brilliant success loved by the even the Capitol and the Districts. 76 years later, Kierstyn Weathers officially announces the 152nd Hunger Games as the Second Capitol Games.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

* * *

 _ **Kierstyn** **Weathers, granddaughter of Eliah Tunderstorm**_

* * *

As soon as I step outside my burgundy, sheltering house, the cold winter air bites at my face. Blonde hair frames around my round, childish-shaped face like a mother's arm around her child, fitting perfectly together. I wrap my striped, loose scarf around my scrawny neck further. Today was my first day at being Head Gamemaker, and I wasn't here to fail.

Walking across the streets, I see my destination. It was a bright, blinding building that today's adults use for transportation. It was the only one in the small, wondrous sector of Ten. Yes, the Capitol had sectors.

Sector Ten was my favorite Sector, out of all the ones to choose from. The first one is too wild and shiny. The second is even more insane. Sector Three always get most of the technology from its pairing District, and after a day of being outside there you have an immense headache. While Sector Four is one of the less crazy and more nicer ones, if I lived there I would get packed down with inhabitants asking for Hunger Games gossip. Every single day.

Yup, it was pretty horrible. The list goes on like that, until I decided to stay in Sector Ten for a while.

Right when I stepped into the place, I knew it was going to be amazing. I told myself not to get my hopes up too quickly, but it happened. The people there minded each other's business, the neighbors were friendly, and they didn't wear as much shiet as they do in Sectors One and Two. In fact, they even celebrated past traditions. If I didn't know them better, from first glance I would've thought I walked into the past. Before the first rebellion and all that.

I quickly snap back to reality before I could walk into a wall. I scurry inside the building full of…

Teleporters.

That was the mode of transportation in the advanced world of today. Children used electrical hoverboards and such, while the more mature ones find a building like this one and find their destination.

I extract a key from my pocket. The Gamemakers Headquarters could not be bothered by common Capitolites gushing over the wonders of the Hunger Games. The key was there to unlock a door at the end of the hall, a door for where all the Gamemakers go.

There was always a security guard placed in front of all the locked doors. Once again, normal people couldn't come barging in and interrupt some government thing. I show her my key as she nods and opens the door.

My heeled boots click on the floor, slowly and steadily. When I was about sixteen, I learned how to use a teleporter… at least tried to. I ended up stepping into the portal and disappearing into a completely different place. That was only because I didn't calm my mind. My mind was bouncing with vitality and that messed up the system entirely. Hey, I never said Capitol technology was flawless.

I forced my head to go into a blank, hazy whirl. As I look in the portal, I could see my hazel, earthy colored eyes stare back at me unblinking. I might've been the only Capitolite ever that didn't wear contacts, but I liked my chocolate and pine green mixed eyes.

Taking a deep breath, I put one of my feet into the swirling pool of aqua and ultramarine. I repeat the process until my whole body in enveloped into the portal. I think of the Gamemakers Headquarters. This is where I want to go.

Quick as a flash, my surroundings change and I am in a blue and white room full of people. Most look at me normally, while a few smile. I grin back and hold my hand up in a wave. Expectedly, some Gamemakers huddle together in hushed tones, glaring at me as they speak.

Narrowing my eyes at them, I can hear a bit of their conversation.

"Granddaughter of that Eliah guy…" "...bet she's a psycho as him…" "...'course, Michael, it runs in the fam-"

"Ahem," I announce rather pointedly, sending them a threatening look. "My name is Kierstyn Weathers, and I'm am this year's Head Gamemaker."

The Gamemakers all look at me expectantly. Once sneers quietly, but I hear it. I plaster on a fake smile. _1… 2… 3._ Don't let him get to you.

I take a seat at the end of the grand table. "I am here to improve the Hunger Games, as you all know. Does anyone have any ideas?"

A woman raises her hand. "State your name," I declare, my voice offering no quiver.

"Terra Elestran, ma'am. May we have an Egyptian arena?"

I pretend to consider this when really I already have the answer. It was no. "Thank you, Terra," I finally say. "Next."

More Gamemakers hold their arms up, eager to speak. After half an hour of getting through all the hands, there are no more left. The ideas they had were unoriginal, as terrible it is to admit. The arena will end up being an Egyptian desert with cloud islands if this goes on. I pray for someone else, anyone else to offer a brilliant idea I can actually use.

One last hand goes up almost hesitantly, and I almost jump with the chance to call on it. "State your name."

"Michael Ivory," he smiles crookedly. "The 76th Hunger Games was a brilliant success. Why was it so amazing?"

I have to think about this for a while, and truly think about it. Suddenly it hits me.

"It was the Capitol Games," I mutter quietly. "But what does it have to do-"

Michael's eyes flare with excitement. "The children Capitolites were sent into the arena to fight to the death. Everyone was eating it up, even the families of the tributes and the Districts, of all places. In fact, it _is_ the 152nd Hunger Games- exactly 76 years after the first Capitol Games."

I smile almost automatically. "Thank you, Michael. All of your contributions will be put into consideration," I lie. Only one of them was going to actually work, and it was Michael's. He has brilliant ideas that will get him places in life.

* * *

 **Welcome to the 152nd Hunger Games, aka the 2nd Capitol Games :) If you care to submit, the form will be on my profile. The rules are down below.**

#1. No Mary-Sues, Gary-Stus, or Katnisses. Self-explanatory. I mean, do you really want a perfect character storming in and killing all of your tributes?! I sure as heck don't.

#2. Please, no recycled tributes! I don't want one of my tributes to be another person's tribute as well. It just takes the fun out of writing. And if the owner of that SYOT sees it, *slices neck*

#3. I'm so sorry, guests. You can't submit on reviews. It doesn't take long to make an account, but if you truly can't email me or something! sexydumplings gmail .com. The reason I'm doing this is because I don't want to spoil a character.

#4. Fill out everything. EVERYTHING. Everything is needed!1! Nuff said.

#5. Once I get my hands on your tribute, I can tweak them a bit. Just a bit if there is something I don't like. Unless your tribute is supposed to be unliked…

#6. Don't be upset if I kill off your tribute. This is all Hunger Games and fun. I kill off whoever I want :D

#7. Please, please review. I need your thoughts and feedback. If you don't review, drop a PM! It's not like I would kill your tribute because you're not reviewing, but reviews are cookies for the soul.

#8. Have fun! I mean, I know this is the Hunger Games where you kill people you hate and such but this is for everyone's entertainment. It's kinda sick but still good.

* * *

 **Because for the fun of it, questions!**

 **#1. Opinions on Kierstyn?**

 **#2. Opinions on the semi-Twist?**

 **#3. WILL YOU SUBMIT? :3**


	2. Diamonds in the Rough - Sector One

**Reaping Day - Sector One**

* * *

 **"** ** **Quiet people have the loudest minds." Stephen Hawking****

 **Lalo Ayer's POV (15)**

* * *

"And, one day, the Games are gonna come back to the Capitol in full glory, and be like, 'WE'RE BACK BISHES!', and…"

I whip my head back to Ama, wanting to see the curious and relaxed face of hers, only to find her staring out the window. I scoff. "Were you even listening to me?" I say impatiently.

She stares back at me, startled. "Uh, of course I was… you were saying something about, um, this year's arena? A rad duck ...pie pan?"

"No," I furrow my eyebrows in frustration. "I said a 'bad luck island'."

She smiles apologetically. "Sorry, Lalo. I just got distracted."

"Sometimes I wonder if you even care."

"Yes, I care! But, honestly, what are the chances the Games are _really_ going to happen again?" Ama cocks her head sideways and waves her arms dramatically. She thinks I'm just being paranoid about the Games coming back to the Capitol, but I have proof!

"The Gamemakers look for the interest of the Capitol," I point out skeptically, "and the Capitol loved the 76th Hunger Games, even the families of the tributes. Heck, the Districts liked it too. Why wouldn't they make the Second Capitol Games?"

She rolls her eyes. "Whatever, Lalo." At that moment, Liana and Dylan come and join our conversation.

"Lalo!" Dylan hisses, grabbing my shoulders with urgency. "I was snooping around in the government files, and found out they _were_ planning the Second Capitol Games!"

I almost jump with joy, grinning like a doofus. "See?! This is what I freaking meant, Ama! You thought- you fu-"

"Lalo!" Liana exclaims, eyes widening. "Language!"

"But- but I told you guys, and-"

Dylan smirks, an expression that is way too familiar to me. "I was joking. The Second Capitol Games have not come nor are they ever coming."

I throw my arms up in exasperation. "C'mon! There's a chance-"

"Yes, there's a chance. But hardly." Ama's mouth is tucked into a firm line, which meant end of discussion. I cross my arms, pouting. I wish I could just say something, and have them listen for once in a while.

A lock of burgundy hair bounces into my face. I am suddenly reminded of my baby-ish looking face, with all my small features… that sounded weird. Liana says I have a _simply adorable_ button nose and small pink lips. It's quite insulting, really. To top it all off, I used to be called "Fluffy" because of my poofy cheeks. Not that they've changed at all, really.

"Whatever. You're going to bow down to me when that day comes. And then, what will I do? Ima beat your ass!" I throw my arms in the air, hoping to get a reaction. Judging from the poorly-contained snickers they directed at me, I'm pretty sure they didn't take me seriously. No one ever does. I sigh, defeated.

"...Attention, Sector One High School," the speakers blare from the ceiling, projecting its voice across the entire recreation area. "Please report to Willow's Corner Park. Attendance is mandatory. Thank you."

Things like this happen each week, usually for an upcoming field trip to the Districts, a tour with a Victor, shit like that. Although, most of the time it isn't mandatory, but who's crazy enough to skip a meeting with a _Victor?_

Liana shrugs indifferently. "If they say to go, let's just, well, go." She speaks in a quiet tone, as if she was going to be arrested for talking loudly. If that was an actual rule, Dylan'll be in there for a lifetime. Maybe even after death, who knows?

I walk out of the large room and tumble out into the streets. Everywhere I look, there are people with green skin, implanted tiger fur, or rainbow afros. Despite having to see this each day, I cringe slightly. It's just… _unnatural._ However, it's nothing I've never dealt with before, so I keep it to myself. After all, Dylan has lime spiked hair and Ama has diamonds around the corner of her eye.

When I reach Willow's Corner Park (which is a memorial for a District One tribute. She had 12 kills, and during the final two, the other boy from 11 simply won by luck; as she was running, a hunter mutt speared her through the back.) I notice there are ridiculous amounts of people. What's going on? Usually there's only a few hundred people and they're all kids. Now… literally the whole Sector is gathered around the park.

"What's happening?" I hiss to a smaller kid beside me. He shrugs, his scaled dragon cuff tattoos showing. "Dunno." is his reply. He stalks off further into the crowd until there's no trace of him.

After a bit of wandering around and trying to look over the heads' of people, which is pretty hard considering they've surgically altered themselves to look seven feet tall, I find a line of people who look my age. Not knowing what else to do, I take a spot at the end of the line.

When I get to the front, there's a petite woman who has a needle in her hand. "Finger," she breathes. I place it on the table where she stabs it, and stamps my finger on a piece of paper along with my name. It leaves a deep ache where she poked it.

Maybe they're doing a population check? It'd make sense, with all the people around. I'm rounded up into a section where boys who look my age. For some reason, this feels familiar. The anxiety's smacking me in the face, and I still can't tell who it is or why I seem to remember it.

A woman stands on a fountain, clanking around on her magenta-colored high heels. "Welcome, Capitolites," she announces sweetly. The woman is wearing similar Capitol fashions, with ankle-long diamond-blue hair and a dress made of gems. "You may remember me District One's escort, Julia Diamante…"

Wait. What's the escort doing here? Can it be…?

"And you're probably wondering; Why am I here? Well, I'm proud to announce it's time for the 152nd Hunger Games, or, will be better known off as the Second Capitol Games."

"I _told_ you!" The words come out of my mouth before I can stop it. I can just imagine Liana's, Ama's, and Dylan's faces when I say this. The whole Capitol is probably staring at me right now, waiting eagerly for what this young boy has to say. "I told you all _motherfuckers_ that the Games would come back, but did _anyone_ freaking listen?! Raise your hands if you believed a word I said!"

As expected, no one says a word. Ama crosses her arms and shakes her head shamefully at me. Liana doesn't even bother to yell out, "LANGUAGE!"

"No! Who's laughing now?!" I give up a triumphant smile, putting my arms on my hips sassily. Then I remember about the people who're looking at me, and embarrassed I return my body parts to their normal, quiet location.

Apparently the escort wasn't paying attention to my little speech whatsoever, and continues on. During my ranting, she must've picked out the boy's name from the ballot already. I listen, excited to find out the Capitol male tribute. This'll be fun.

"Lalo Ayers!"

"Shit."

* * *

" **I must be cruel, only to be kind." William Shakespeare**

 **Kuna Grace's POV (18)**

* * *

"And that wraps up our lesson for today." Salvador, my private tutor, stacks his folders together and smiles and me.

"Thanks, Salv. You'll have to go, because my dad says I have to change. Probably to go to some Capitolite party or whatever. We can't have our talks today, I'm sorry." I grin back lamely and start to shoo him out of my house.

"Oh, Kuna, I already knew I had to leave. It's, well, it's business that concerns me after all." He waves apologetically after me out the door. His facial expressions told me he wanted to tell me something, but was holding it back. I close it, but not before I see him look back, flushed.

I stalk into my room, preparing to get ready for where-ever my family wants me to go now. My mom always told me I had to look my best for every occasion, and it's kinda burned into my memory. I study myself in the mirror, recognizing the cold, blue eyes that stare back at me, framed with perfect long lashes. Snow-colored hair falls down my back in waves, matching the similarly colored skin of mine's. As if embarrassed, my eyes fall to the floor.

Maybe I can drop the exception today, just for once. I don't need to wear a huge, poofy red dress. Instead, I wear a skimpy, yet comfortable, laced black dress with white tights underneath. My tattoo appears vividly on my back, which is a cherry blossom tree.

I have more. There's another one on my chest, of a white and a black fish. Yin Yang is what they called it, the people in the tattoo center. My arms are entwined with a pretty rose vine. Call me tattoo crazy, but they're cool.

Staring at my nails, I realize how gross they look. They have all sorts of dirt and dust underneath, not to mention blood. They weren't directed at myself, but other people. Bullies, to be specific. It's a… weak term for people who beat up smaller people, but at least they've gotten the message. If only scratches were life-long... Oh well, if they keep doing that 'make fun of' bullcrap, I'm coming for them. I don't care if I get suspended again, ima do it!

It doesn't matter, no one's going to pay any attention to them. I wash my hands clean anyways, but don't bother with the nail polish.

Well, I've got extra time, so why not see what's going on in the world? I turn on my tablet to see blaring news about the Reaping and how it starts today. Oh, really? This must be the party my dad wanted me to attend, a 'Thank Goodness it's Reapings' party. It's the only logical explanation.

I might be doing something illegal here, but to be completely honest… I don't like the Hunger Games. Before you freak out and report me to the government, please listen! I started watching them at five years old, and I knew it was kinda maniacal and demonic to like this stuff. There was so much blood, and gore… although that's actually not the reason why I hated them so much. It's so saddening when little children die, only twelve or thirteen years old. They don't have a chance, how do you expect them to fight?! It just seems so wrong!

Of course, I'd be raining down hate if I could. But if I do, I'll probably get arrested and everyone will hate me. I care too much about my reputation. Well, not that I have one, but…

Anyways. I'm getting off track here. The point is, I hate the fact that the Hunger Games kill of small, defenseless tributes. If I ever had to participate, I'd probably round the smaller ones all into a little safe house, and leave them alone. I don't want it to come down to me and a weak, twelve year old. I wouldn't have the heart to kill him or her.

Yes, I can kill. I've killed before, usually with Salvador on a field trip into District Seven woods and hunting animals. I've also done it with my dad, since he's a trainer for the tributes and he wants me to become one one day. I honestly don't want to, but I do want to make my father proud. I found out I was pretty handy with an axe and tomahawks. Still nothing compared to the experienced, bloodthirsty Careers… it makes me shiver thinking about them.

 _Doo-doo-doo doo-doo-doo-do-do!_ My phone starts ringing, and I pick it up to find out the recipient is my dad. "Dad, what do you need?" I mumble boredly. Instantly, I cringe. Dad doesn't like it when I speak quietly. Shoot.

Thankfully, it doesn't seem like he notices. "Your mother and I are already at Willow's Corner Park. We'll see you shortly." Then he hangs up.

Willow's Corner Park? That's just a memoir for a tribute with a whole bunch of kills. Did Mom really plan this party over there?

Oh, well. A party's a party. If my parents put it there, that's where I'm going. I give myself a final touch-up and leave for Willow's Corner Park.

The streets are crowded as heck. I push my way past the rainbow-colored crowd until finally I see a line of people.

It can't possibly be that my parents invited _this_ many people! In fact, this is all of Sector One. And they really came?! All of them freaking came?

 _Great,_ I grumble negatively. _It's gonna be an hour before I can even catch a glimpse of them._

I gather behind the line behind a tall girl. She's wearing a peacock dress and her face looks like one of those sugar skulls.

Finally, I get somewhere with the line. A lady held some type of needle, and all she said was, "Finger." I gave her my thumb and she extracted some red liquid. I felt my thumb getting sore. Is this for security? Mom could go crazy with security, but this is just unnecessary.

Someone pushes me towards a group of girls who look my age. Reluctantly, I follow them with my head down. This sucks. I don't even know what's happening.

A loud, blaring voice comes out of nowhere. "Welcome, Capitolites. You may remember me as District One's escort, Julia Diamante…"

This is proof my parents _really_ went too far. Real life model, one of the Capitol's very own escort!

Unless…

"And you're probably wondering; Why am I here? Well, I'm proud to announce it's time for the 152nd Hunger Games, or, will be better known off as the Second Capitol Games."

Oh, my gawd. What the hell?! The Games. It's returned to the Capitol, for the second time-

"I told you! I told you all motherfu-" I hear a male voice say from the other side of the crowd. I start to tune out of it; I was never one for cursing.

The escort continues on as normal. "Lalo Ayers!"

The same boy mutters something under his breath, and slowly walks to the stage. I can see his hands are trembling, and his feet are shaking. His bright blue eyes stare at the ground wavering, but unblinking. I have to clench my fists to keep from wobbling over myself. This boy might not be twelve or thirteen, but I still felt bad for him.

"Oooookay!" Julia lightly claps her hands together once, and moves on to another bowl; the girl's bowl, I presume. She dips her finger in, and takes a slip out daintily. I felt as if the world just slowed down.

"Kuna Grace. Beautiful name."

* * *

 **A/N: Sector One Reapings, DONE! Thank you to CreativeAJL and Jms2 for wonderful tributes :D The reason it looks formatted weird is because I'm trying to look professional, but failing miserably. I keep telling myself it looks good. Sure, Brooke. Keep lying to yourself. Smh, it doesn't matter. If you like, I keep. If you hate, I stomp on it and make sure it's dead forever. So, that'll be a question because that's just the conceited person I am. I'm droning, aren't I? Hahah. *wastes your time*** **Also, expect an update like by mid of November or sooner… This is mainly because I still have to finish that other SYOT I'm STILL working on, heheh. Sorry 'bout that... And, did you know that spots 3M, 5M, 6M, 8M, 9F, 10M, 10F, 11M and 11F are still open?!**

 **#1: Who do you prefer? Lalo or Kuna? (I can't freaking answer, because I love them both.)**

 **#2: Why do you like them better?**

 **#3: Who do you think will last longer?**

 **#4. Predictions?**

 **BONUS: Do you like the format?**


	3. Warriors With A Spirit - Sector Two

**Reaping Day - Sector Two**

* * *

" **I'ma put on a good show for ya'll, no matter how brief."**

 **Pathons Ester "Helen Bedd"'s POV (17)**

* * *

Living in the Capitol is a ton more stressful than someone may think.

No, seriously! I have to wake up at five AM in the morning to act in a stinkin' TV show called "Keeping Up With Da Queens". Well, it's not stinky at all, really. In fact, it's awesome. But it's so freaking exhausting. I have to drive along the streets of Sector Two and pick up all the drag queens. I have to put up with my bitchy boss and parents. And on top of that, I'm still in highschool.

Do you see how all of this adds to disaster? I suck at math, but I can piece together this picture.

My parents are already wonderfully _pissed_ off at me for participating in this damn show. They say it's 'ghetto', 'gay', and all these other names that don't make one prick of sense. I mean, what is a 'scalawag'? And I thought the Capitol loved gay people, but my parents are definitely not one of them. And so they kicked me out and I was forced to live with my awesome sister. Not that I mind, of course. But yeesh! Don't bail your son out of his own house when the only reason is because he's too perfect for your ugly, ratchet faces to handle!

Before someone asks, no. I'm not gay. Just because I like looking at dresses and girly things doesn't mean I'm gay. Honestly, people should have more consideration!

No, wait. I shouldn't say that. Those bitches don't have a mind of their own, how can I expect them to think about other people? Silly me.

Whatever. It doesn't really matter; I'm just going to focus on what's happening now. Have I really spent fifteen minutes reminiscing about some dumb topic? Dang, I'm lonelier than I thought I was.

Wait. Where am I? People all around me sit in small, circle tables sipping their afternoon drinks. My eyes sweep around, recollecting memories about what I was doing here. Oh, yeah! I was supposed to meet my girlfriends Rosie, Paige, Sharon, Anita and Felicia. They're not my girlfriends literally; I'm still freakishly new to the slang of the female gender.

Catching sight of the wonderful Anita, I immediately spring up and squeal. "Anita, girl!" I exclaim, making a kissy face.

"OH. MY. GAWD." she pauses abruptly, but almost instantaneously breaks into a grin and sits in the seat across from me. "Helen, you're SO HOT! Where did you get that lipstick?"

Also, Helen's my nickname. Not my transgender name, I'm not transgender! Just a crossdresser!

"Thanks, boo. I got it from that Luscious Ladies place down the block. You know, the super neon-y store?" She nods vigorously. "Yeah. I got it from that one."

"Bae, it looks so flashy on you." She winks flirtatiously, and laughs crazily a second later. "Also, did you hear about Cecelia? She got into a fling with Ma-"

Perplexed, I cut her off for a mere moment. "No, no, I didn't, but where are the others? Rosie, Paige, Sharon, Felicia? Where are-"

And with that, the interrupting spree officially began. "Rosie has a date with Elegrifir- _oh,_ he's so hot- Paige is doing her nails at that Bawse Nails place, and Sharon is off shopping without us, can you believe it?!" Anita rolls her eyes with obvious distaste and annoyance.

"What about Felicia?" I ask urgently.

"Oh, yeah. She should be here any moment…" the sapphire-haired girl sitting across from me stretches her lips in a frown, checking her imaginary watch.

Suddenly, Felicia bursts into the dim coffee shop breathlessly. She swerves her eyes towards us and instantly looks relieved.

"Helen, Anita!" she says giddily, pushing her gloved hands together. Her blond hair is in a curly frenzy of fluff, and she was wearing an oversized grey sweater and beige Uggs. Casually white girl wear. My hand stroked the back of my shoulder length ginger hair self-consciously.

Her eyes widen, as if she forgot something. "Oh, shoot. I left my phone at home!" she whined, her voice cracking. "How can I take a selfie now?!" Felicia's eyes bubbled up with tears, her eyes threatening to spill.

Then all of a sudden she started to laugh. Her giggling filled the empty, emotionless room and an occasional snort popped out. "Oh, man," she sniffed, wiping a joyful tear from her bright eyes. "Acting like a pretentious asshole makes me feel better about myself."

That's the thing with us. We may be shallow. We may seem bland. We could act like the most superficial girls on the planet. But the difference between us and the others was that we actually _weren't._

Being and acting were two different things, I had learned the past few years. Putting up a cover of makeup was temporary, but the stuff inside you would never change. Your thoughts, your past, basically _you_ are more important that some disguise that was gonna wash off eventually.

Damn. That was dramatic as hell.

I coughed, tearing apart the silence that came after laughing too hard. "So, what do you want to do today?"

Felicia sharply sucks in a breath. "I just realized I can't stay," she mutters quietly. "I still have stacks of homework left to do!" She lets out a low string of curse words.

"It's okay," I say, awkwardly patting her shoulder. "BYE FELICIA!"

Anita smirks and Felicia smiles sadly. "Bye," she calls out. "I'll see you tomorrow, then." And with those words, the girl in Uggs traipsed out of Capitol's Coffee.

"Aww," Anita echoes, her voice hollow. "I was really looking forward to actually spending time together in person."

I nod in agreement. "We could've had, like, a makeover or something," I quirk the side of my mouth downward disappointedly.

Anita looked like she wanted to reply, but then the speakers blared their monotone speeches. "Attention, Capitolites," it said in a bored voice, "Please report to Ares Museum. Thank you."

A bubble of confused and scared voices burst all around in the coffee shop. Some people grabbed their keys and left worriedly. Others clutched onto another person, and very few stood still, unfazed. However, Anita and I were the second type.

"What do you think it is?" she asked, her voice quavering in the slightest.

I shake my head. "I don't know," I echo. Reluctantly we follow the crowd of anxious Capitolites to our destination. But what lied at that destination, I had no idea. It might be some stupid Victor tour, right?

I hoped I was right, and it wasn't something else...

* * *

" **Show me a hero, and I'll write you a tragedy." F. Scott Fitzgerald**

 **Antigone Valance's POV (18)**

* * *

"Antigone? Antigone Valance?" Mocking voices appear in my mind, accusing me of something I didn't even know myself. Whatever it was, it made me start seeing red.

 _It's Cara Montague,_ I want to say so desperately. _Cara Montague!_

Of course the voices don't hear me, despite living in the same quarters of my own, non-existent voice.

"Bitch. You think you're cooler by not replying?"

 _No, I actually don't. None of you get it._

And it was true.

 _My name is Cara Montague. I have a story no one else but me understands. So you'd do well not calling me 'bitch'._

Nothing else is said, and soon the obnoxious voice is wiped from my memory.

Honestly! Everyone is so inconsiderate. I start to shake my head, despite the fact other people might be looking at me like I was crazy. But I, Cara, was not insane, that was Antigone. Antigone was the shady one.

And Antigone never had to exist if my mother had never been a prostitute.

Cara, don't forget your past. Your past makes you into who you are in the future.

Okay.

In District Six- _yes,_ _District_ Six- prostitution was considered one of the most illegal things there. I had no idea that my mother was one of _them._ I was so carefree, thinking no one was targeting my family. Young Cara Montague thought she was just a normal girl living a happy life in District Six.

But Young Cara was wrong. By a long shot.

The Peacekeepers had been looking for my mother for quite a long time. And three days before my fourteenth birthday, I was watching the news and saw my parents falling limp to the Peacekeeper's bullets.

Of course I had panicked- what else would you do if you saw your parents getting shot?

Escaping to the train station, young Cara survived a few days, until the Peacekeepers realized that the prostitute's daughter hadn't been reported expired. And being the brave, valiant warriors they were, after finding me in the storage room, they knocked me out and tied me up. I was defenseless.

Then the bitches turned me into an Avox.

I was forced to serve the tributes from District Six (ironic, huh?) for the Hunger Games. By then, I knew I had to truly make a run for it. If it was urgent before (which it was, duh) then escape now was unquestionably mandatory. When everyone else was too preoccupied to notice a particular 14 year-old Avox hide away, I rushed to the nearest bathroom. I dyed my hair pink, changed into a Capitol-type outfit, and got the hell out of there.

They never found out about Cara Montague, the Avox, leaving and escaping.

There's probably no way they could still be searching for me still, right? I took all the precautions to ensure my safety in Sector Two. I became distant and pretentious. I dyed my hair pink and altered my skin. Heck, I even made sure everyone knew I was mute! No one believed me, of course, being the idiotic Capitolites they were. But I never let it get to me.

Much.

Antigone doesn't give a shit, but Cara would've been slightly hurt.

So, no. I'm not psycho. I'm leading a double life.

My own history was going to give me an immense migraine. I rub my temples, squinching my eyelids together.

Call me a snob. Call me conceited. Call me a crybaby. In the end, I won't care.

Antigone Valance won't care.

I start to sigh deeply. I can't believe I was unfortunate to have _this_ life. Like Capitolites say, ' _I didn't choose the Capitol life. The Capitol life chose me.'_ but instead of 'Capitol', replacing it with 'tragic' would be more accurate.

I have to blend in with these neon-haired freaks. I had to get hair extensions, dye it pink, and curl it everyday. Of course I don't wait to- who would?- but I was forced to.

But at least it's better than living in the Districts in constant fear of the Games and the Capitol, I had to admit.

I brush away a bubblegum lock behind my ear and blink rapidly, shaking the tears back into my sockets. The streets were busy, with mutated people walking airily around the shops and restaurants. None of them looked natural- not one bit- but they seemed so carefree that it didn't matter. I felt a spark of envy flare up in my chest- they could always afford to be comfortable, no matter what skin they were in. I could never be like them.

"Attention, Capitolites. Please report to Ares Museum. Thank you."

I look upwards in shock, feeling a tingle of anxiety. I-I don't know why I just did that. It's just an announcement, right? These were normal?

Looking around, I notice a few people staring in surprise and some with tears in their eyes. Judging by their scared expressions, I _somehow_ got the feeling that these announcements were pretty rare. It was just a hint, you know?

The crowd pushed through the narrow, bronze doors of the shop that owned the patio I was leaning against in this very moment. In a hurry, I joined the others, anguished. Stay as unnoticeable as possible.

I etch along with the sweaty people surrounding me, until finally, we reach a clearing.

No; it was more like the parking lot of some place. And using my _magical_ context clues, I could tell we were at Ares Museum. No duh. I mean, that was the place everyone was supposed to go. A few people moved in a steady stream, and me being the smart person I was, I followed.

And soon I was brought into a small, fenced area.

"What is this?" I hissed to the lady in front of me. Well, at least I tried to. Avox, remember? She held a brander, and had a nonchalant expression on her face. "Give me your finger," she said, not able to hear what I was saying (like everyone else.) To avoid suspicion, I reluctantly handed (hah, my puns. You can't stop Cara from emerging in her own mind.) my finger to the woman. She zapped it quickly, and in a flash stamped my finger on a blank page. My blood shone through like a beacon in the night, and I gulped at the sight of it.

Not that I was afraid, but because it was the same blood that my mother and my father had.

The Capitolites entering the center soon pushed me in from mere force, and I was cornered into one of the sections. Other girls who looked about my age looked at me in barely covered distaste. It might've pissed me off, but before I could react, I noticed something.

All of the people being surrounded were children. Every single one.

My chest tightened, as if a cold hand was squeezing its grip on my heart. It can't be… it can't be…

Has the Hunger Games come to the Capitol?

It couldn't be true, could it? The Capitol was immune. It was protected. It was safe. But before my very eyes, the same procedure was being used on Capitol citizens just like the Reaping replays in the Districts.

And finally, confirming my fears, the District escort stood on a high slab of marble, wearing a smug mask of arrogance.

"Hey, Capitolites!" The man's abnormally high voice squeaked in anticipation. "I'm here to deliver you to your deaths- I mean, send you to be famous for a week and brutally murdered on live television!" His smile shone brightly, as if we were balloting the lottery.

Well, we weren't. And either situation the escort suggested didn't sound good. At all.

When he saw the crowd's disrest and a few kids bursting into tears, he completely ignored it and waltzed over to the boys' ballots.

Plucking a slip from the very middle, he read out the name in the most cheerful voice he could possibly muster.

"Pathons Ester!"

It took quite a while, and I was getting a bit impatient and nervous. But finally, the Peacekeepers wrestled up...

A flame-haired woman with bright cherry lipstick.

Well, out of all the guys in Sector Two, I can't say I was expecting this guy. I've seen him a few times in this show called, "Keeping Up With Da Queens" when I was extremely exhausted and browsing through channels.

"Why do we have a _woman_ representing the male spot on Sector Two?!" The escort screeches, his features twisted in a loathing distortion of his face before. "Who- who does this _fish_ think she is?!"

And with those words, Pathons held a hand over his heart, his face mocking an insulted expression. "'xcuse me," he spat. "But I'm pretty sure the correct term is _bitch."_

A few 'ohs' are heard from the crowd, and everyone snaps up. I had to give this guy his credit; he was snarky, even being sent to a death montage.

The escort threw his hands up in exasperation. "What the Himmel ever!" he snarled, already prancing to the ladies' bowl. "Antigone ducking Valance!"

I almost didn't realize the truth until I saw all the pairs of multicolored eyes staring into my mute soul.

I wanted to faint. I felt my vision going black at the edges, until I felt rough arms hold me up in disgust. I was thrown onto the podium, stumbling around and coughing.

"Ew," the man said, pinching his nose. He held away his mic, and Pathons took his chance.

The ginger thrust his hand towards the microphone and tore it from the escort's grip. "Capitolites," he announced without an ounce of doubt, "I may be gone in the next week or so, but I'll put on a good show for ya'll, no matter how brief."

The escort rolls his eyes, reclaims his speaker, and almost throws it at me. "Do you have anything to say?!" he blurts.

I don't reply- I can't reply.

And of course, as expected, he starts to blubber furiously. Veins pop out on his forehead, and I finally realize how old and psychotic this man was. I suddenly felt sympathy to all the District Two kids- they had to put up with this guy.

Fire overtakes my spirit and forces my hand to reach out and slap the man. The loud _crack_ is heard all over Sector Two, all over the Capitol, and all over Panem. But I don't regret one camera.

The man looked like he wanted to punch me back, but he soon realized that it was illegal to injure a tribute. He knocked over the Reaping bowls, anger controlling his actions and thoughts. "Welcome, gay kid and idiotic pink girl!" he screamed. "Say hello to the most _pretentious glass mole tributes I've ever received!"_ The escort kicked over more things, and stomped away furiously.

That escalated quickly.

 **A/N: Man. I would've gotten this chapter up sooner, but… *dramatic wind***

 **The Finale.**

 **For SITSP.**

 **DUN DUN DUN! For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, I made a SYOT before this one. If you want to know about the horrors that could very well be done to your tributes, certainly check it out. You might regret sending in your tributes, but oh well. Basically, while writing about these two wonderful tributes (thank you, Will, Haley) I had multiple finger cramps and spasms. I probably won't get the next chapter up until two weeks later, as well. Because much exhaustion. Ow.**

 **I've figured out what I'm going to do, thanks to 20. For Sectors One through Four, I'm going to do Reaping Day. For Sectors Five through Eight, I will give them Goodbyes. And lastly, Sector Nine through Twelve will basically show interaction between the tributes, mentors, and escorts. So that way, I have less chapters, less effort and much farther than if I were to do twelve Reapings. *whispers* I am** _ **such**_ **a procrastinator…**

 **Also, SYOT notices. If you're in the mood for submitting, please check out The Awesome Novice Writer's SYOT called The Price We Pay. The theme that year is instead of having the Reaping, Peacekeepers abduct any kid they want to from their homes. There's still tons of spots left, and I'd appreciate it if you submit. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT.**

 **Because I am a self-promoting piece of crap, I'm going to ask ya'll to promote my tributes so they live longer. I'm just selfish like that, so… BUT NO REGRETS! IN Ansley's SYOT, #AsyrinGoKillBrysia and #BrysiaBeatAsyrinsAss. In James's SYOT, #MUCHJASPER and #NicoHarrows4Life. Long and complex, but it pretty much sums it up. ^-^ *holds up hypnotizing device* Support Brooke's tributes… you won't regret it, I think…**

 **I don't even know if I expressed the tributes' personalities well enough. What did you think? Haley, Will? How did I do with your BOOTIFUL tributes?**

 **#1: Which tribute did you like better? Pathons AKA Helen Bedd, or Antigone?**

 **#2: Why did you like that tribute better?**

 **#3: Predictions? It can be anything, like what would happen to them in the Games, how much they'll be liked by the Capitol, things like that.**

 **BONUS: If you gave both of these tributes nicknames, what would they be? Caleb, you'd be pro at this.**

" **No, I want to be Katniss. I DON'T FREAKING CARE IF MY HAIR IS TOO SHORT, just give me braided pigtails or some shit like that."**

 **\- My over-excitable friend nicknamed Ratchet, who thinks he should be Katniss for the Hunger Games Spoof we're making. He didn't get the role. I'll send ya'll the links to the Spoof through PM if you're interested. Or not, my identity will be sealed. Bye, my children! *rides off on a unicorn chariot to the sunset***


	4. Get the Spark Alight - Sector Three

**Reaping Day - Sector Three**

* * *

" **Life is tough, but it's tougher when you're stupid." Gregory Peck**

 **Grayson Kie's POV (17)**

* * *

"Mom," I groan theatrically, setting my arm on the blanketed breakfast table. "Honestly, it's not like I'm going to die or something."

The woman in front of me who was frying eggs, lays her palm on my forearm gently. "Gray, I'm your mother. I know best." **(MOTHER KNOWS BEST)**

"But they're my friends!" I throw my hands up in mock exasperation; it's _mock_ for a reason.

Sadly, my mom's lived with me long enough to know I suck at acting.

She clicks her tongue, shaking her head as the smell of grease blends into the homely air. "Yes, they are," she adds patiently. "but you never know what might happen. There are crazy people out there."

My mouth closes instantaneously, knowing that there was no point of arguing further. My mother had always been right in her seventeen years of raising me; she had to be in order to grow up the perfection that is yours truly.

No, I'm just kidding. Not about she knowing best, but me being perfect. My mother is genuinely one of the best people I know, and sometimes I feel bad about how hard it is to take care of me. I know I'm not an easy person to keep under control, exact words from my sister and father. But Mom's done a great job; the only major incident in my childhood was when I hit my head on a rock and almost drowned.

But hey- I'm still alive, and _blessing_ this world with my presence. (Can you sense my sarcasm?)

Anyway, I was sort of pissed off that I couldn't see my friends on the weekend, but my mom said 'no', and she's always correct with this kind of stuff. I mean, it didn't mean I wasn't angry, but I was smart enough to trust my own mother's decision. See, I'm just a great child like that!

And here I am, making everyone think I'm an arrogant little butt-face. I'm not… I think…

Suddenly, a sigh erupts from my mother's lips. "Gray, we ran out of toast," she says. "Can you run to the market and grab some real quick? Meria also wants the macarons she preordered a few days ago."

"Yes!" I jump up, excited. "I will. I'll go to the store."

I may come off as eager, but I was overjoyed for a chance to prove myself. To make myself useful. In normal cases, I expect others to impress _me_ , but sometimes I just have random urges to please everybody. Is everyone like that? Agh- I'm such a hypocrite!

I-It doesn't matter. Whatever… I grab a few Panem coins and head out towards the market.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

The store is surprisingly busy, and stocked to the brim with pre-made meals and insanely dressed Capitolites. They wore neon striped clothing and tutus with a perimeter of over nine thousand, but this is considered 'normal' wear. I might've not given their distasteful fashion a second glance, but when I took one glimpse at them I was ultimately reminded of my own natural raven hair and 100% non-plastic body. And I was glad for it.

So soon, after about ten minutes of roaming around the market, I finally collect all the items and head to checkout.

On the way out the exit of the store, a Capitolite swerves towards the left and bumps into me, knocking my goods out of my hand. His eyes widen, and after meeting my eyes he starts to blubber and apologize profusely, scurrying away.

I felt a little bit hurt- but not by much, of course. I was told by many people that I was pretty intimidating at first glance, and so far, there was no evidence to dissuade that idea. I sigh, picking up the fallen macarons and bread.

And yet again, another person was knocked into me.

However, not just one. Multiple.

"Kid," the man growls, his faux rainbow afro leaning to one side. "Get to the Square. It's mandatory."

"Why?" I question, taking my stuff from the ground for the second time that hour. "What's it for?"

He brushes off invisible dust from his bell-bottom jeans. "Not enough time. You got four minutes to get there."

"What are you even talking about?" I tried to stay calm, but my patience was faltering.

"I'm trying to help you, kid!" The man raises his hands in exasperation, throwing up shiny 80s bangles.

I grab the man at the collar with a grip of my fist. "I don't take no for an answer," I say simply, calm rage taking over my movements. "Tell. Me. The. Occasion."

The Capitolite struggles for breath, as if I was about to smash his windpipe. Honestly, this wasn't even painful. I wasn't even choking him- and he has the nerve to pretend to know real harm! Has he ever smashed his head against a rock multiple times? Has he ever _almost drowned?!_

"I-I don't know!" he thrashes around, looking like a hippie having a seizure to the nearest people. "They just told me to go to the Square!"

I unclench my fist, leaving the Capitolite to fall to the floor in a heap. He coughs, hacking as if he was taking his dying breath. One thing about Capitolites- they were conceited. All of them. They thought they knew the extent of pain, but none of them really do. They could win acting awards by the show they put on while 'choking' to a collar raise, honestly.

And what about this idiotic 'mandatory' thing? Someone had to nerve to force me to go somewhere?! Then, fine. Be it. I'm going and seeing what the fuss is all about.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

Turns out they weren't only calling for me.

Hundreds of teens were lined up in sections for age, varying from preteen to young adult. They were also separated with gender, from male to female. One thing all the kids here had in common, though, was the miserable mask on their faces.

Suddenly, a wave of deja vu hit me. Where have I seen this before…?

My brain says _TV,_ and _Districts._

Wait. _Of course._

The Hunger Games have come to the Capitol after… I did some quick math in my head. Seventy-six years. The Second Capitol Games, and of course only the Capitol would be stupid enough to offer the next generation for a death montage.

Warily, I step inside the seventeen year old boys section, eyeing them to see if I could find any familiar faces. Sometimes, I felt like I caught Darius's and Loni's hazel and crystal eyes, but soon realizing their irises were just artificial contacts. I look back to the front, defeated.

The chatter of anxious voices soon descended to a small whisper, and that was when the good stuff happened.

A pink-haired girl took the whole event into a spiral of turns. She gave everyone watching a dirty glance, including me. She regarded the whole crowd with icy eyes, only to look back to the front with her head held high.

For some reason, I thought I was supposed to know her. I really did, but I couldn't place her name…

A Peacekeeper whispered something to the escort, looking at Pink Girl all the while. The escort nodded fearfully, and headed along to the girl's bowl.

"L-ladies first," the escort mumbled, perspiration dropping onto her forehead. She rushes to pick a slip, and reads the name in a blur. "I-It's Magenta, Magenta Firewall…"

If the Pink Girl's scowl could get any wider, it just did. Her features turned into an exaggerated frenzy of anger, disappointment… was that anxiety?

Suddenly, Pink Girl flopped on the floor and didn't move.

I'm guessing she was Magenta?

The Peacekeepers come and drag her towards the limousine already being prepared.

The escort's nervousness from before seemed to have died when Magenta was moved away. She casually reaches out and wipes sweat off her pale green forehead.

"Onto the boys," she peeps, and skips to the opposite bowl of the one she was formerly at. She plucks a slip to the far left, and suddenly I pray it isn't me.

I've never felt this scared- no, _threatened_ \- in my life.

She pauses, obviously perplexed. The escort holds up a hand to her mouth, as if to ask a question.

"Grayson Kie? Why the hell are there so many color names in Sector Three?"

And suddenly I know how Pink Girl felt when she was Reaped.

* * *

" **Shrimp shells are gross, while the meat inside actually tastes like something! Could it be… the same thing with personalities?!"**

 **Magenta Firewall's POV (16)**

* * *

Nervously, I start to pace with a million pounds of anxiety on my shoulders. It didn't matter if I did this once or a hundred times before, the feeling was still more and more sickening each time. If I get caught…

A loud foghorn noise is heard, and everyone on the pavilion looks forward at the arriving train aimlessly. As if the train was stuck in jelly, it slows to a hazy stop and pumps exhaust.

The first person was either brave or stupid. He treaded to the heavily coated man that was checking his watch, obviously annoyed, and holding a large box.

"Name?" The coated man asked gruffly. The other man scoffed with an arrogant air. "You know me," he said simply. "Eriloy Silverbrick."

A long pause is heard before the man redeems Eriloy's authenticity. "Very well," he says finally, handing Eriloy the box he held in his palms. "Your package."

Eriloy walks away confidently, and a surge of envy courses through me. _He has it so easy,_ I thought to myself angrily. _If only I was brainless enough to waltz up and demand my stuff._

Either way, I chickened out of collecting my package first- _again._ I had just failed my unimportant mental goal. I mean, being the first wasn't a necessity, but it guaranteed no missing items and no criminals heading your way.

Grumbling, I head up to the same man and stated my identity. "Magenta Firewall."

"Sorry, what was that?"

" _Magenta Firewall."_

The man checks his clipboard and nods to himself. A moment later, a small, plastic box was given to me.

"Here you go, ma'am." With those words, the man checks something off.

I roll my eyes, snatching my package from his hands. Honestly, I just bought some bolts! He makes it sound like some kind of illegal, nasty, drug dealing business or something.

Okay, one of those descriptions were true. It was the 'illegal' one.

Something I don't get is making District shippings illegal. No, wait- let me rephrase that. The people in the Districts are not allowed to send things _directly_ to common Capitolites such as me. They're permitted to give that stuff to the main government, such as the Gamemakers and the President, while they evenly spread the goods to the Districts.

So yeah, technically what I was doing was… drumroll… felonious.

I probably would've been caught if my dad wasn't a Gamemaker. He's doing even more criminal things than I am, and he still gets away with it. I guess it's a perk of being one of the Capitol's pets- the ability to do whatever you wanted without consequences. Honestly, I don't want to take advantage of my dad's title, but the temptation… it's too much. Plus, I'm just buying light bulbs, wires, and bolts. What's the deal?

It's not even as bad as drugging adult woman and sleeping with them. It's not even as bad as sniffing morphine and ogling about demon cats. It's _just_ buying useless metal pieces, gawd _damnit!_

To be honest, I don't even know why I'm so urgent and defensive on this topic. Maybe I feel guilty for taking advantage of status, but _I don't want to do it._ At least not the way my family members do it.

Whatever. Shaking my head distractedly, my eyes wander to a person in a black coat.

It wasn't the shadiness that bothered me. It was the black coat, which was _very_ suspicious. Honestly, no one even wears _black_ anymore. Magenta all the way, baby!

I'm just kidding, but I do love my magenta. Well, duh, it's my namesake. But moving on, the man was darting around corners and looking around warily for… something.

Suddenly, I freeze in my tracks. Was he looking for the collectors? Was the man looking for the people who collected things from the Districts illegally?

Was he looking… for me?

 _Magenta, get the heck out of here._

My instincts maneuvering my every move, I burst out of the compound. My palms sweating, heart beating faster than it ever had before, I sprint away from my former destination.

The wind brushes through my magenta dyed hair, making my eyes water and burn. My muscles begin to weaken and my head starts to throb. Never have I ever been through exhaustion like I had now.

And after what felt like eternity, I break through the gates of my home.

Creme archways and golden pillars greet me as I wipe my watering eyes with the back of my scarf. Punching in the passcode and throwing open the bronze themed door, I flop onto the pristine couch with a signature Capitol flourish.

 _Is this what the Districts always feel like?_ Breathe in, breathe out. _Running is stressful. And they always run from the Peacekeepers._ And just like that, a spark of newfound empathy was felt towards the people living in the Districts.

A trigger was heard. "What the hell do you think you're doing outside the Reaping?!"

"What the fuck are you saying?!" My mouth acts for itself; defending its own right. "Reaping, what do you think this is?! The _Districts?!_ " I look upward in fury, catching sight of the crazy woman- _Peacekeeper-_ aiming her gun towards me.

She clicks her tongue in a disciplining method. "You don't get it, do you?" she says, shaking her head, not remorsefully. "It's the Second Capitol Games. You're supposed to be in the Square."

And just like that, my mind slows to a blank.

"You _idiot_. You must be on crack or something. The Gamemakers can't be that stupid enough to kill their own people."

"Well, they are." The woman rolls her eyes. "Give me a reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now." She cocks her gun threatening, leaving my voice in a splutter.

I must've paled, because her lips tighten into an arrogant smirk. "Go on, kid. I won't hesitate."

"I-I was with my friends," I lie, sweating all the while. "I swear."

The Peacekeeper seems to consider my untruth for a split second, before she realizes what I'm trying to do. "Wait…-"

I yank out a small remote in my back pocket, and urgently press the button.

The woman tries to mouth something, but her eyes icing and falling forward suggest otherwise. She limps forward, and is still.

My mouth is dry, even though I didn't do much harm. I simply transferred a small amount of electricity into her veins, leaving the system needing energy replenishes. And so, building from that, made her lose consciousness but still alive.

Honestly, I wasn't sure if I could've done that right. I don't even know if she was still alive, but what matters is that I get out of here unscathed.

But that was before I saw the _red alert_ flash on the fallen woman's watch, and Peacekeepers knocking me to the ground.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

My vision is cleared by the time I reach the Square.

I could feel several people's eyes on me, watching steadily, silently judging as I walk through the crowd of sixteen year old females. A few girls scoff, rolling their eyes in disgust as they slowly take a step backwards from the criminal girl. I eye them with a suspicious air, trying to freak them out as much as I can. Although I may have made a felony, I was no criminal- just a curious girl who loved to mess around.

And I saw the same lady I made unconscious mount up the podium.

Her forehead was wrapped, and her skin was etched with purple bruises and band aids. My heart swelled with a feeling of disgust. Honestly, I just shot a bolt in your bloodstream, and you fell! You don't even need this much precaution on simple things like paper cuts and bruises.

The Peacekeeper whispered something urgently in the escort's ear, as the escort tried to follow along to what she was saying. All of a sudden, I heard my name, leading to my blood chilling and dropping a few degrees. The woman couldn't be saying anything about me, right?

"Hey, what's happening?" I ask the girl besides me.

She scowls, a frown darkening her whole face. "The Reapings, dumbass," she whispers back, and turns around like she's never seen me in her life.

Meanwhile, the escort nods nervously, and rushes to the girl's bowl. "L-ladies first," she mutters, and hurries with the first slip. She picks it up and licks her lips, and I could almost see the beads of sweat dotting her forehead. "I-It's Magenta," she gulps. "Magenta Firewall."

I have never thought I would be Reaped. Heck, I didn't even consider it for a moment. In the thick of the Square, the escort dropped the slip of paper she was holding in raw anxiety.

The ballot lands right in front of my feet.

 _Arya Leandres_

 _But it's not my name._

I have no doubt that the Peacekeeper set me up. In normal terms, I wouldn't have freaked if I was Reaped, but the thing that scared me was that _they_ rigged the voting system. _The Peacekeepers_ were out for me- they _wanted_ me to be Reaped.

And just like that, I blacked out for the second time that day.

* * *

 **A/N: Wow. This AN will be extremely urgent, mind you.**

 **OH MY FLIPPING GAWD CECELIA WILL ACTUALLY GET A FANFICTION! TODAY! YAS! FINALLY…! SHE'S BEEN READING ON THIS SITE MAYBE LONGER THAN I HAVE AND SHE STILL HAVE NO FFN ACCOUNT. *heavy breathing* YAS.**

 **ALSO, HANDS! UPLOAD YOUR HANDS AS YOUR PROFILE PIC! IT'S SUPER DUPER COOL- YOU KNOW WHAT?! JUST CHECK ON MY PROFILE. SCROLL TO THE BOTTOM. YOU'LL SEE IT. PLEASE MAKE YO AVATARS YO HANDS FOR THE 23RD OF DECEMBER.**

 **AND ANOTHER MAJOR, MAJOR, MAJOR THINGY.**

 **I WANT TO WRITE A BOOK.**

 **YAS YAS YAS YAS YAS! I KNOW MY WRITING IS SUPER AMATEUR, BUT I HAVE A BRILLIANT IDEA AND I WANT TO GET ON WITH IT. PLEASE CRITICIZE THE SH*T OUT OF ME, I PROMISE I WON'T BE OFFENDED. HONESTLY, IF YOU CRITICIZE ME, I MIGHT EVEN HUG YOU. AND GIVE YOU COOKIES. PLS.**

 **WELCOME, FAT NECROSIS AND ELEMENTAL EVOLUTION TO THE BROOKIE FAMILY! I LOVE YOU! THANKS FOR REVIEWING BAES.**

 **And yes, I was on a sugar high while writing this. Gee, I wonder who I sound like…? Reader, Ansley, Wizard, you would know. At least I hope so… ._.**

 **But seriously though- back to normal stuff. I wasn't updating because of a HUGE road-trip and playing Town of Salem all day, everyday. Whoops? My cousin was the one who introduced it to me in the first place, so feel free to rain shame on her stories. She currently resides on Wattpad, writing a story called** _ **On the Road to Forever?**_ **It's about a girl named Arya Leandres attending a school for supernaturals. The thing is, learning magic and summoning demons wasn't enough- there has to be twists and lies uncovered, mysteries and dozens of betrayals. CHECK IT OUT, NOW! PLS.**

 **I feel like I didn't portray either of these characters well enough… Gray was kind of hard to write, and Magenta was pretty hectic XD But, it's done now. Welcome to the crappy writing sprees of yours truly.**

 **#1. Which tribute did you prefer?**

 **#2. Why did you like them better?**

 **#3. Predictions?**

 **BONUS: Theme songs for these tributes?**

" **Is Texas in Florida or is Florida in Texas?"**

 **-My idiotic sister, while we were in a car for fifteen hours. My gawd, back cramps AND hand cramps! And brain cramps. Ugh.**


	5. The Tide Crashes In - Sector Four

**Reaping Day - Sector Four**

* * *

" **There are but very few men clever enough to know all the mischief they do." Francois de La Rochefocauld**

 **Anthony "Tony" Castalette's POV (17)**

* * *

Everyone thought that when I turned seventeen, I might've changed my childish ways. They passed off my simple pranks as immature games and assumed as I grew older I would see how selfish and kid-like I was.

They were wrong. Like, by a long shot.

If you haven't caught on to the Tony train, I was a self-made prankster. I wasn't going to stop doing what I did- even if I went against my free will. I reassured myself that I'd keep doing notorious acts, keep forcing my family to bail me out of Peacekeeper custody until _they_ actually noticed me.

And by 'they', I mean my parents.

Most people would argue that I had too much attention from society. People would say I had enough negative fame to last for decades, but you see, I wasn't doing it for them. I didn't need anything from the Sector- it was my madre and padre that I wanted to acknowledge my existence.

It's gotten quite tiring, actually, them not being aware of the son that was standing in front of them. But I told myself I wouldn't give up for my parent's love. I don't particularly like what I have to do to get them to notice me, but I have to do whatever it takes, right? I have to do it no matter the consequences, because the outcome will conquer how much the deed sucks in the first place.

Yeah, that seems about right.

But just imagine how infuriating it is when your whole family is sitting at the breakfast table, while your parents moon over your amazing, _wonderful_ , older sister as she bats her eyelashes 'modestly'. Imagine being me in this situation- do you get why a person would get so angry?

Hopefully, being the considering person you are, you understand. You feel every ounce of my silent rage. You'd probably lash out and break something, but you see, I wouldn't. I may get really mad sometimes, but apparently I have a high tolerance of things.

The door opens, revealing a humble Avox ducking her head low as she delivers the last course of breakfast- ice cream. One of the only requests that my parents listened to me about. She sets the dish onto the heavily blanketed table, only to stand by the side uncomfortably as she watched the family she served delve into the meal she prepared.

I felt a spark of sympathy for the girl- being forced to obey a single command for the rest of her life must've been exhausting. I couldn't empathize perfectly, but I knew she probably felt tired of doing the same thing everyday, for the same people.

"Hey," I whisper, directing my voice in a sharp, low tone. She looks unfazed, looking around for the action to happen until she realizes that I was talking to her.

"Do you want some?" I say, holding up a few cherries between my fingers.

The Avox looks shocked- either it was from a "how dare you speak to me, peasant?" or disbelief that someone would offer anything to her. Most likely the latter. She spurred around, checking to see if anyone was watching, and gently took the cherries from my hand.

Despite living in harsh environment, and heck, getting their _tongue_ removed, she actually smiled in a gracious way that made my heart soar.

The feeling was very peculiar, actually- it was a much better sensation than getting a new video game or having my parent's attention. Funny how one simple grin can change your whole perspective and the things you've been working to achieve. I suddenly felt like just changing my motivations to helping people, and making their lives better- until I heard my father boom about how known Jacquelone was.

No, I wasn't jealous of my sister's love- I just wanted to have some of my own to keep, as well.

Even if I wasn't envious, I still wanted out of the "Let's suck up to Tony's sister" battle between my parents. I coughed, hoping they would notice, and to my surprise they did. "What do you want, son?" my dad said gruffly, although not unkindly. He put a heavily suited hand on my shoulder.

"C-Can I see my friends?" I ask meekly, urging my voice to be steady.

My mother rolls her eyes, batting her diamond encrusted lashes. "You mean ze girl with ze _natural_ cocoa hair?" Mom emphasizes the word 'natural' to the point it sounded uncomfortable. She makes a shooing motion with her hand, in my experience, meaning, "Leave, peasant."

I nod weakly and head towards the door with my head feeling light and dizzy. To other kids, talking to their parents were no big deal, but I had a show to put on. I had to impress them, and so far I sucked at it. Majorly.

I was one step out the door when one of my friends tackled me to the ground.

"Misty," I croak, strruggling to get up, "What the hell was that?"

"YOU SAID YOU'D BE OUT, LIKE, HALF AN HOUR AGO!" She shouts, not caring whether the people passing by heard her. She dusted off her jeans, and held a hand out to help me back up.

I gladly took it- or so I thought I did. At the last second, she yanked her hand back leaving me to stumble and relose my balance. "Haha, psyche." She said, crossing her sticking out her tongue.

"Gee, thanks for the love." I roll my eyes, smiling all the while. It was all in good fun, even if I got a bruise on both my left and right arm. My hand self-consciously wanders to wear my dragon and Panem seal tattoo laid on my biceps- I got it just to have my parents freak out about my 'responsibility' and the amount of money I spent on it.

She elbows me, and checks her watch while her neon-frizzed, clementine hair ruffles. "Alite should be here by now, too. But you guys are irresponsible jerk-faces, so that never happened." Misty smacked the back of my dark, auburn haired head. I chuckle as I wince- never underestimate the power of an angry, angry Capitolite girl.

Trying to duck the next attack from Misty, I say, "Yeah, Alite's such a idiot sometimes."

"WHATCHU SAY ABOUT ME?!" Alite jumps out of the alley besides my house, armed with cans of silly string. He starts spraying the brightly colored string gusto style in every direction, leaving no place untouched with the 'deadly' substance.

"NO ONE- NO ONE SAYS ANYTHING ABOUT MACHO ALITE!" The 'cocoa' haired boy exclaims, holding his palms up in a sign of victory. Then he starts dancing around, spazzing out to his own mental jam. "So macho, so macho-"

"Alite," Misty interrupted, her hands on her hips, "What the hell is 'macho'?"

"It's like like, slang from England," he answered dumbfoundedly.

It's my turn to butt in. "I'm pretty sure that was 'fetch' last week."

He sticks his hand out casually, in a message that said, "who even cares?" Alite shrugged, and went back to spraying the nearest buildings.

I turn my green-stared gaze back to Misty, who was watching Alite with a sort of- _wistfulness_ in her eyes. Then she realized I was watching her, coughed and looked back at me sheepishly. "Yeah, what?" she asked.

For a moment, I was dumbfounded. "Uh," I start, opening my mouth _really_ intelligently. I shut my jaw, ending what I was about to say. "Never mind."

She shakes her head, although halfheartedly. It's quiet between us (despite Alite yelling battle calls at the unmoving buildings, that is) until she suddenly blurts out, "Don't you think there's something more to life than _this?_ "

Misty circles the entire area with an overwhelming show of hands. I watch, a bit clueless as to what she was doing. Then I realize that this was her way of showing _everything._

"I-I don't know what you mean," I echo, although I knew exactly what she was saying. _Isn't there more to life than what we're living for?_

I felt it this morning when I helped that Avox. I felt it when Misty watched Alite somberly. And I felt it now when she asked me this simple question.

"You do," she mutters. "There's nothing to be ashamed of, you know. The Capitol was made _for_ freedom. They wouldn't stop us if we wanted to do something else, right?" She looked towards me, her aqua eyes shining. "Tell me I'm right."

I wanted to say she was correct- desperately- but I wasn't sure if the Capitol worked like that. Sure, we could change our identity, sure, we could marry a toaster! I haven't really thought of it, but there were limits to our so called freedom. It wasn't entirely ours to keep- there was also a heavy price to pay.

"No," I finally say. "You aren't right. I-I want to think you are, but we can't keep living blindly, like our future is what we want it to be no matter how unpredictable. They might say we're free, but in the end, we're simply the government's pets. Everyone in the Capitol may think the animals live in the Districts, but that's not completely true. The Capitol is just in the exact same conditions as the Districts we pity, only we're treated a bit more fairly and we're petted until we're vain." I close my eyes, my head shaking a little. "Before everyone goes off in a tangent, thinking we're able to do whatever we want, we have to see what's right in front of us. However, at the same time, we have to imagine the entire picture. See, my parents have to start seeing the son in front of them. But I have to find that there's much more to life than appeasing my parents."

Misty looked at me, appaled. "That speech was amazing," she said after a moment of silence.

"That was a speech?"

She rolled her eyes. "Duh, doofus. I mean, it might've gotten off topic several times, but it was still pretty cool."

It warmed my heart to think that someone believed my words to be _pretty cool._ My face broke into a smile, and Misty and I stood watching Alite paint graffiti on the houses.

You know, being happy is _pretty cool,_ too.

* * *

" **It's not luck, not brain nor brawn- simply a battle of wits."**

 **Aurora Blanketswig's POV (18)**

* * *

I kind of felt bad, actually. I knew about the upcoming Games while everyone else was oblivious to it. So, of course, I would have the upperhand to all the shocked tributes coming my way.

Well, I wasn't psychic. It wasn't like I found out of the Second Capitol Games from a dream or something. Rather, it was just me being curious and snooping through my dad's files- and God, that was the jackpot! It was like a pleasant surprise when I found that file, like an early birthday present or something.

I had always liked the Hunger Games- well, rather, the fame and attention of it. Killing was, however, a bit unfortunate, but hey. I'd do whatever it takes to get what I want. I had always dreamed what it would be like if I participated in this reality TV show for death, and now, instead of imagining I can experience it for real.

And before you go and assume anything out of the ordinary- yes, I am volunteering.

I knew the date was set for today. I knew the Reaping would take place today. I knew many, many things would happen today. And I don't plan on stepping down for this once in a lifetime chance.

Don't get me wrong- killing isn't right, and I'm probably one of the only people in this godforsaken city who knows that. But lives were a small price to pay in exchange for money and attention; at least, that's what I thought.

I knew it was quite selfish, don't get me wrong. But humans _were_ selfish. They were literally made to _be_ selfish, and I wasn't one to deny that. There are two ways to see the world- full of good and bad people, or full of neutral people. I had to admit, my eyes were determined to see the black and the white of everyone- meaning, I was quick to judge.

First impressions made a huge impact on me. If you treated me nicely, you were a good person. If you scoffed, you were bad. If you ignored, you were neutral until later. Guess who overanked the other team?

Bad people. The bad people were everywhere.

That was what I was thinking, on the marbled school steps. As students bumped past me, snickering and some waving, I thought of how sucky the Capitol was.

Ironic, eh?

I was just about to get up and start doing something productive when another girl my age squared into me.

I recognized her immediately- who wouldn't remember the face of the girl who literally wrecked your whole highschool life. Esmerelda Bitchface.

"OH MY GOD," she screehed, obviously terrified with what was on my- face? "WHAT IS THAT ON YOUR CHEEK?!"

So I was right. It was on my face.

"Probably a pimple," I say nonchalantly.

She had noticeabley paled, a hand over her dead heart. "A p-pimple?" she echoed blatantly. "How do _you_ get pimples while my face is still clear?!"

I shrug. "Maybe it's because your face is more plastic than actual skin."

Esmerelda Bitchface stepped back, a mask of pure horror disguising her shitty features. "It is NOT!" she mock gasped. "I only got a nose job!"

"Sureeeeeee," I say sarcastically, while rolling my eyes. Then I turn my stare back into her faux face. "You know, I don't think the President would like to hear about you trash-talking about his assistant's daughter," I tap my chin thoughtfully.

"H-Hey!" She blinked, her fear obviously known. "You were the one who _assaulted_ me!"

"Hah, _really?_ " I say mockingly, batting my eyelashes innocently with my lip quivering. This was an act, and we both knew it. " _D-Daddy, my friend Esmerelda Bitchface was bullying me!"_ Then I returned my voice back to normal. "You know I win this game. I always do."

Seeing no other way, she stomped off into the distance with a fire etching her wants. Hearing her mutter, "What the fuck ever.", I roll my eyes. Either way, I won yet again.

Well, of course I did. When you look like an innocent, sweet girl at the age of eighteen with your BIG, BROWN, DOE EYES, YOUR SKINNY, LITTLE BUILD, AND CHUBBY CHEEKS, you can rule the world. At least, if you play it right.

I cross my arms victoriously, swinging my satchel over my shoulder. Once again, I was about to leave when something interrupted me.

"Attention," says the intercom. "Please head to Beach State Building. A bus will be coming your way shortly. Thank you for your time."

A few people wander around cluelessly, pondering what the intercom meant, while I understood every word of what the speakers blared.

The Reaping had officially begun.

-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-

About an hour later, me along with half of the county on the bus arrive at Beach State Building. The steady flow of Capitolites empty out into the crowd, and soon it's my turn to go out.

Pulling an apple out of my bag, I lower my teeth towards the red flesh as I mount down the bus steps.

 _Surprisingly_ enough, Life wants to make my day miserable.

" _NO!"_ screeches an old lady. She jumps and swats the apple out of my hand, the apple landing into the dry sand. " _DON'T CHU SEE?! DAT APPLE BE POISONOUS!"_

 _Yeah,_ I thought angrily. _And dat lady be crazy._

"Chu a smart girl," she says, dusting her skirt free from invisible germs. "Don't eat teh Capitol food."

I nod obediently, although the only thought coursing through my mind was, _weirdo._ I smile fakely, and get the heck out of there.

I notice that the whole Reaping setup was made to slightly resemble the Reaping in the Districts, however it was a bit more high tech. More classy. Instead of needles, they were light tasers. Instead of rotting, wooden podiums there were metal, shiny staircases.

Lining up in the eighteen year old girl section, I wait patiently for the essembly to start.

And finally, after about fifteen more minutes, the escort clears her throat.

"Hey, citizens of Sector Four," she giggles, reaching to cover her mouth with her light, aqua skin. "You're probably wondering why you're here."

 _No,_ I thought. _No, not really._ However, I was forced to consider the thoughts and actions of the other Capitolites, so I nod stupidly.

"Well, guess what!" She claps her hands together excitedly. "It's Reaping Day! YAY!"

Everyone stares, shocked.

She continues on, obviously not caring whether we were enthusiastic about it or not. "Ladies first. Can I have… Myrawell White mount the stage?"

For a moment, I forget my purpose. But just for a moment.

"I-I volunteer," I say quietly, playing the shy act.

The escort's face morphs into one of pure delight. "Oh, yes! You are SUCH a cutie!" she says, pinching my cheeks as I step up the stage. She squeals, her voice echoing all around the silent square. "Okay, okay. I'm okay. But sweetie, I'm dying to know why you volunteered."

"Well," I say, my voice barely above my normal talking level, "I was curious. All the Victors in the past Games seemed super cool, and I-I guessed I wanted to try it out."

She nods what seemed empathetically. "Very well," she shouts. "Now, onto the boys!"

The next few minutes go by as a blur, but I'm able to piece together the fact that junior Tony Castelette was Reaped alongside me.

I had heard about him multiple times, despite us not even living in the same county. He was a major prankster, pickpocketing and causing mischief all around the Sector. He was always described as confident and arrogant, but right now he had turned a light shade of green.

As we shake hands, I think, _Welcome to the real world, man. May the odds be ever in your favor..._

* * *

 **A/N: I don't know how I felt about this chapter. I mean, I was stuck in a car while writing it, so maybe that's why.**

 **Whoops. Let me talk about these POVs for a second. You know that little thing Tony did about seeing what was in front of you, but thinking of the entire picture at the same time? That was my rant vomit right there. I'm actually really proud of it.**

 **Also, notice: my website has been out for ages, if you haven't seen it you definitely need to. The home page is where I address why I can't update, what's been going on so far, when chapters come out, etc. Sound fun? It probably doesn't, but I thought it was pretty cool so I did that.**

 **Advertising corner: Check out my friend, domgk115's SYOT called Revenge: The 98th Hunger Games! Like, wow. o_o When he first showed me the idea he had, I was like 'Hands down, it's brilliant.' I can't explain it in words- you have to check it out yourself. There are limited spots left, so please hurry! You won't regret sending in tributes.**

 **Another SYOT: dreams and desperation's SYOT. Literally all the spots are left, but what can you expect when you're collecting for… um… well, more than 24 tributes. Submit to both of these SYOTs, and I'll love you forever. You'll love these authors forever.**

 **Yeah… um…**

 **And one more thing: if you haven't reviewed last chapter, please do so. It's not an obsession with reviews (cough cough CALEB) but rather I NEED FEEDBACK. I don't care if you PM me your thoughts instead (although reviews would be more simpler) I just want to know what y'all think so far. Thanks for your time and patience, again. XD I know I''m not the easiest person to deal with.**

 **#1. Which tribute did you like better?**

 **#2. Why is that chosen tribute SO MUCH AWESOMER?!**

 **#3. Are you psychic? Try to guess what will happen to these cuties. o.o**

 **BONUS: If two of these tributes from Sectors One through Four were your parents, who would they be? I would probably be Tony's and Magenta's child. The mischievousness and the badassness combined together is basically me.**

 **BONUS #2: FIND DA REFERENCE! If you can guess the movie AND the reference, you get cookies! YAY! It's pretty obvious, by the way. It's in Tony's POV.**

" **Yah!"**

 **Okay, no one would understand this except my cousin and I. So, I guess it's a inside joke, but not really. The story behind it is that I watched Focus by Ariana Grande without the music. It was a parody, and kind of stupid, but that doesn't stop me from bursting out laughing whenever someone says 'yah'.**


	6. Electricity Flies - Sector Five

**Goodbyes - Sector Five**

* * *

" **Sometimes your light shines so bright that it blinds people from seeing who you really are." Shannon L. Alder**

 **Jason County's POV (17)**

* * *

Still recovering from the shock of being Reaped, I replay the earlier events in my head for the ninth time this hour.

" _Bony arse," Mark grumbled repeatedly, grunting as he pushes himself off the ground with his arms. "Jason has a bony arse."_

" _Blame the genetics," I rolled my eyes and plopped myself off of Mark's back and onto the heavily carpeted floor. "I didn't choose to have a tailbone as sharp as a knife."_

 _I paused for a second, rethinking my words. "Actually," I begin, "I think it'd be kind of awesome to have a knife as a tailbone."_

 _Mark shakes his head, wiping the sweat off his forehead and grunting at my 'lame' fantasies. "You know how painful that'd be? I already have eighty pounds on my back-"_

" _I weigh one hundred and ten pounds," I said defensively._

" _One hundred and ten pounds on my back," Mark corrected himself. "and it'll be even more painful doing push-ups with a blade lodged in my spine."_

" _Your back will be straight," I slurred._

" _You forgot to mention the fact I'll be paralyzed for life."_

 _I nodded sheepishly. "Yeah, that too."_

 _And somehow, someway, I drifted to the base of his forehead._

 _I didn't- I couldn't understand why I did what I did in that moment. I thought that I'd been hallucinating, or that someone else had been controlling my actions. But no; I was completely aware of myself. I knew exactly what I was doing._

 _I brushed my lips against Mark's temple, holding them there for- oh, about eternity._

 _For some reason, I didn't process the fact that my best friend might've not swung that way. But I knew something was wrong when he looked at me with his dark blue eyes._

 _Did I just do that?_

" _Holy_ shit!" _I exclaimed, backing away from Mark. "F- Oh, my God, I'm so sorry. Jesus, I don't know what's wrong with me. Oh, my fu-"_

 _My mind started whirling, my head throbbing, and I swear I just imagined Mark kissing me._

 _But as soon as my vision cleared, I realized I actually wasn't seeing things- my best friend, the only one I have_ never _pranked was locking lips with mine._

 _He broke away, a mad gleam in his eyes._

" _Holding your breath helps in a panic attack," he said excusably, rushing his words profusely. He ran his hair through his bleach blonde hair in a manner of embarrassment._

 _Mark watched as I cocked an eyebrow upward, unconvinced._

" _And… I might like you."_

Damn. I still felt dizzy, and my heart was exhausted from soaring one too many times. I felt on top of the world when I found out Mark liked me back earlier, only that position was crushed when I was Reaped for the Second Capitol Games.

What the hell, Panem?! The one day I felt unstoppable, you have to smack me in the face and say I'm going to fight to the death with twenty-three other kids. Jesus. Can't a guy ever be happy without being overthrown a second later?

I swear, the Gamemakers were high when they came up with this Twist. First, the Sixth Quarter Quell was two freaking years ago, and second, why do you want to kill your own city's children?! It didn't make any sense, and I wasn't the best at logic. But at least I know that you shouldn't kill off the next generation.

Being Reaped was one of the most terrifying things I had ever been through. You know, when I watch the District Reapings, I never actually stop to consider what they must've felt like. I just jumped to trying to guess the Victor, and usually I was right. But the point was still made- I didn't consider the tributes' feelings.

I guess this is karma. It was sucky karma, but still karma. I never imagined being in the Games, never thought of what the poor kids were feeling, and look! Here I am, being sent to a death montage. Awesome, right?

Haha, no. Screw my life. Kill me now.

Which was, coincidently, the same thoughts I had when I _accidentally_ kissed Mark, haha.

The door creaks open, revealing my father and my two best friends in the world; Mark, of course, and Ashlyn.

My father had a high position in the Capitol; he served as an investigator, looking for crime throughout the city and reporting it back to the Panem government. He was often gone for long periods of times, from traveling to the Districts and back, which ultimately resulted in me being home alone for that stretch. It was pretty hard for me, seeing I didn't have anyone except my father- my mother had died from frontotemporal dementia several years before.

Sometimes I still 'remembered' her brilliant smile, and her soft hands brushing back a lock of my raven hair, but I knew it was a figment of my imagination. She had been insane since the day of my birth.

Moving on. Ashlyn was the closest girl friend I ever had. However, as you can probably tell, I wasn't into her. Many people were waiting for the moment that she and I would go out, but she already knew. It wasn't that I directly told her or anything, it's just pure girl power. She's perceiving as heck, and once she saw the way I looked at Mark she simply pushed herself out of the question and started shipping us. Of course she never mentioned it out loud, but I'm pretty sure she knew Mark was gay, too.

Mark pounded into the room, caught sight of me and tackled me to the floor.

"J-Jason," he breathed, almost choking me with his death grip. "No… they can't-"

"Psyche," I say. "They did. And you know who's 'they'?"

I felt like rolling on the floor, screaming, "JOHN CENA!" but I'm pretty sure the Peacekeepers would've stormed in and taken Dad, Mark, and Ashlyn, so I didn't do that.

"The Gamemakers," he nods. He presses his lips against my cheek as if I didn't have enough love from him today.

And, having the ultimate cliche life possible in the Capitol, I knew Ashlyn saw. Her golden eyes went wide, and she let out a high pitched squeal.

"Hell- you guys just kissed?! You just-" she let out a sigh, her eyes alight with ecstasy. "Mark, Jason, what have you been hiding from me?"

"Wait, what?" My dad stares at me, puzzled. "Jason's gay?"

A flash of guilt crosses Ashlyn's face, and she looked like she was debating over to tell the truth or lie. "No. Maybe. Y-"

"Yeah," I admit, walking over to my dad. "I'm pretty sure."

"You know what?" Dad says, smirking and waving his hands. "It doesn't matter. You're my son, and the only one I got, for Heaven's sake!" He smiles, and I felt really awesome.

You'd think that my dad would be ashamed, but what he said was true. Ever since Mom died, we realized that we only had each other to depend on. Family is a bond that'll never be broken, and sexuality wouldn't change that.

Ashlyn made a choking sound, and dabbed her eyes with a little handkerchief. Where does she even get those? She sniffs, and said something about 'joy', 'family', and all the other generic words for 'love'.

Sometimes Ashlyn was cool; other times, her inner sappiness shined through. This would be considered 'other times'.

Mark's smile wavered, and he gritted his teeth. "Damn, never have I hated the Games more."

A chorus of 'dittos', 'sames,' and nods echoed through the dim room.

"Time," a Peacekeeper said, checking his watch. Everyone solemnly exited the room, and before I could stop myself, three words jumped out of my lips.

"I love you…" I whispered. However, they were too far away. I was too late- they didn't hear anything.

I made a slight choking noise. Don't hesitate before you regret not doing it, I realize. I often made mistakes, but this was one that I was forced to take to my grave.

* * *

" **Some people grumbled that roses have thorns; I am grateful thorns have roses." Alphonse Karr**

 **Luna Roper's POV (14)**

* * *

I felt like I was going to burst into tears as soon as my family came in.

The Reaping was about the extent my fourteen year-old self could handle- no matter what it looked like on TV, it was always much, much worse. In the Districts, all the kids look so brave when they mount up the stage. However, for me, I was simply trying not to cry.

So imagine, after being picked for a manslaughter, having all eyes on you, and your every move ultimately being televised for all of Panem to see, you finally see the family that is already mourning for you.

I embraced the grief that came with the hard lump in my throat, the tears in my ducts, and the feeling of wanting to be alone. Being miserable was probably the only familiar thing in my life.

It's always been like this- my parents divorced when I was nine, and every morning and every night I had to deal with my elder siblings. I was always held against my sisters and there would be consistent sibling rivalry.

In the Districts, they had to deal with much worse. Poverty, death, strife and warfare… but in the Capitol, everyone had it better. People went along with their lives in a carefree manner I could only strive to have. They didn't have to worry about _anything_ , since it was the 'perfect city', after all. At times, it seemed like I was the only one without an amazing childhood. I was always going to be the odd one out, Capitol or not.

The words struck me like a hammer, whether I said it or not. _I was always going to be the odd one out._

Which was true. It didn't seem like I fit anywhere- not my sisters, not society. The only place I was able to be myself without judgement was in false reality.

It was quite an oxymoron, actually. False reality, to me, meant another life that I could never have. Having adventures in books and video games were an example, and amazing ones at that as well. Often I wonder if I would trade my life to be able to live in such worlds- however, I dismiss the thought, urging my mind to a different topic.

Of course fictional lives were better- it was all created by an author's mindset, from the deepest pits of desire or simply grazing the surface for an ounce of loathing. But the real question in my case was if I would have the courage to do such a thing.

I'm a coward, I know- but I'm not sure if I could give up everything I've ever known for something greater, better. Maybe I was still holding onto the thought that this life could get lucky, and that it might make living easier. That maybe Life would treat me more fairly, and that I could actually be _happy._

But so far, it didn't seem like that. At all, seeing I've been chosen to die.

Squeezing the water out of my eyes, I sniff a few times trying to make sure I don't seem weak. The puffiness has almost gone out of my dark burgundy eyes. I tuck a few strands of my brown dip-dyed veridian hair behind my ears, and await for my family alone in the dim, high-class room.

And soon enough, my mother bursts through the mahogany door.

She might've been the only person in my family who actually cared about me. She ran towards me with open arms, tears sparking in her eyes. "Oh, my poor _baby,_ " she cooed, tackling me in a tight hug and rocking me back in forth. "Luna, are you feeling all right?"

In normal circumstances, I would've hated being confined between someone. But this was my mother, and this situation was anywhere _from_ normal. "I'm okay," I say, feeling trapped, "I think."

I was slightly aware of my sisters in the room. Abigaile was shaking her head with disdain, Lottie rolling her eyes, and Lili being, like normal, oblivious. Father was standing in a dark corner, every few moments wiping his eyes but overall staying strong.

To be honest, the only person I might miss was my parents, and Lili just a little bit. Abigaile and Lottle were little, manipulating children of Satan.

Finally, Abigaile spoke up. "I'm kind of sorry for not really talking to you these past years," she says, wincing and chewing on her bottom lip with every word. She really did sound remorseful, but I wasn't about to take her sappy crap.

"You'd better be," I snap, narrowing my eyes at her. She has the nerve to say sorry _only_ when I'm about to die! How demented is that?!

She takes a shocked expression, her mouth curved into one of disgust. "Can't you just let it go?!" she demands, raising her arms in exasperation. "I said I was sorry, okay?"

I shake my head. "You have to wait until I'm almost dead to apologize?"

"Girls," my mother says, sniffing, "Luna isn't going to die! S-She's coming back."

Lottie scowled. "That's just wishful thinking, Mom. I'm not gonna be very happy about her certain death, but at least I don't give false hope."

 _Gee,_ I thought. _Thanks for the faith in me._

However, I couldn't really argue with Lottie. (one of the only times, mind you) I couldn't see anyway I would survive this hell hole, unless the Capitol changed its mind about the Hunger Games, decided to rescue all the tributes and ultimately destroy these Games forever; but there was absolutely zero chance of that. None. Zilch. Nada… right…?

Haha, nope. I'm not even gonna think of the Capitol giving up the Games because it was never gonna happen.

My mother sobbed some more, and I felt an iron grip on my heart tighten. I hated seeing her so distraught, but what I even hated more is the freaking Head Gamemaker!

What kind of Twist is this?! I mean, yeah, I get the Second Capitol Games because it's been seventy-six years since the first one, but it doesn't mean you have to go ape shit on this and make multiple anniversaries for _one_ Games Twist. It made no sense; I thought the Games were made to establish peace for Panem, not make the Capitol suffer! The Capitol wasn't the ones who did anything wrong- it's always been the Districts. They harvested the rebels, while Capitolites were simply the innocent bystanders who deserved none of the pain they had received.

If you asked me, this Twist was the most idiotic one in Hunger Games history. Even worse than the one the crazy Head Gamemaker made in the eighty-third annual Games- at least he wasn't killing innocents. Sort of.

Dad eyed me, shaking his head sadly. Tears welled up in his eyes but they refused to fall. "Luna," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, "I know I haven't been a loving father."

I nod, urging him to continue.

He quirks his mouth in a guilty manner. "I wasn't the father you deserved, at all. You weren't the best child, of course, but that was no excuse to not provide you with the best life possible."

His eyes shone, and if there was sorrow before, there was pride now. "But," he started, "there's something else. Something else that might guarantee your survival."

"What?" I marvel, astonished. "What is it? Tell me-"

And of course, having the sucky life I have, the Peacekeepers barge in the moment things are getting tense and escort my family out the bronze doors.

My dad exchanges a look with me one second, and the next his hazel eyes are gone. I'll never know what he would've said.

I breathe a sigh, one of both misery and relief. Misery, as I'll never see my parents ever again; relief, as I would pass over to the other side in complete peace and solace.

But of course, I still had my one and only friend.

"Kat," I whisper, as the blonde haired girl enters through the doorway.

She nods, although rather somberly. Kat swipes at her eyes with the arm of her shirt, sniffing loudly. Finally, she chokes, "I can't believe you're gone. My best friend."

I want to comfort her- promise her I'm coming back home for her, for my parents, but I know that I would never be able to keep it. So, instead, I say something else really bitchy.

"Well, of course I'm gone. I've just been sent to a death montage."

A cackle erupts from her throat, only to turn into full-out sobbing. "Don't say that! You're supposed to tell me that you're coming back home. You're supposed to say that I'm going to see you again. That's what anyone would say!"

 _Yeah,_ I thought bitterly. _I'm not saying that I'm coming back because that'd be a lie, and I'd rather not lie to you in my last few minutes._

"Well," I say awkwardly. "You'll technically see me again in the afterlife."

"No," she agrees, "You're not."

Kat leans in for a hug, and starts tearing up in my shoulder. I wasn't one for cheering people up, but I wanted for than anything to see Kat smile again. Just one more time, before I died.

 _Died_. The word sent a shiver through my spine, making it feel ultimately _real._

"Time," says a Peacekeeper, already marching in to take away my best friend. She screams and kicks weakly, but it seemed like all the energy had drained out of her.

As I watch her face disappear out the door, I suddenly felt empty. Hollow, even, like I was made of nothing. My throat went dry as if I had just eaten an apple, and straightaway I felt faint.

The last thing I saw before my vision faded away was the rich, glossy cabinet, mocking me with my own reflection.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, a ton of things have been happening lately and it has my mind whirling.**

 **New Year's was just the least of it, actually. Although, it did start a chain reaction including revealed confessions, newfound secrets, forgiveness, neglect, and so much more. Like, I might pass out. I literally think I might pass out.**

 **In fact, my neck hurts really badly as I type this out. I'm so fidgety, gah.**

 **Sometimes, I swear I have ADHD. Have you ever just stumbled upon one of those ADHD symptom videos, watch it, and then slowly check off every sign? That was me… only with every single video. BAHAHAH!**

 **Whatever. And have you ever noticed Phan? They met when Dan started stalking Phil's Twitter and replying to his tweets D; And guess what? Now they're best friends and they live with each other. Have hope, sweet angel baby faces.**

 **I don't even know. What am I saying? I swear I'm going delirious from this A/N, and woah… does delirious have an idea noun? Is it… deliry? That's such a pretty word, and it reminds me of a bakery. Or India. Delicious, Deli, maybe that's why…**

 **AND DAMN TODAY'S (JAN 4TH) MY FANFICTION ACCOUNT ANNIVERSARY OKAY BYE**

 **JASON IS MY ABSOLUTE BAE. LUNA IS MY ABSOLUTE BAE. I think I did pretty good on Jason's POV, but Luna was challenging. I don't know. Oh well, too late.**

 **You know what sucks? The review glitch. Like, what's happening with FFN? Damn, get your crap together. I want to read my reviews. :/**

 **#1: Better tribute?**

 **#2: Why are they better in your eyes?**

 **#3: Predictions?**

 **BONUS: How would you describe my writing? Like, Ansley's is casual, Caleb's is straightforward, Crystal's is mystique (idfk) so how would mine be? ;) wow mucho conceited gee Brooke what humble modesty you have there such skillz no narcissism at all**

" **csn i dtaz moar tajfh wne prssfon/?/"**

 **Yeah… I don't think I need to explain. ._. Crystal, Nellie, Ansley, Caleb, you'd know. Possibly Haley. Yeah, I'll shut up before I say anything else. But guys, if you're asking why I put this out it's because it was hilarious. Not trying to embarrass anyone. *cough* AND YES CALEB, I HAVE ZERO CHILL. I DO ENJOY TORTURING PEOPLE BECAUSE HAUNTING SOULS IS WHAT I DO FOR A LIVING -.- REMEMBER KIDS, BROOKE THE PSYCHOPATH IS OUT TO GET YOU! BE AFRAID, BE VERY AFRAID.**


	7. Light 'Em Up - Sector Six

**Goodbyes - Sector Six**

* * *

" **Never make a defense or apology before you are accused." Charles I**

 **Ryder Kane's POV (15)**

* * *

Anthony and Tobias Winds were smuggling; those were the words that I, sadly, had to take to my grave.

Anthony Winds was a successful businessman who I admired. Respected, even. In fact, he was one of my main role models... before I caught him.

His son, however, had always been a jerk. Always. Tobias was continuously beating up freshman younger than him, stealing drugs and cheating on his many girlfriends. Worse- they were just habits for him. It was _normal,_ if you can imagine it. Routine. I wasn't even surprised when I found out.

It was a Sunday evening, after I did all my chores and homework for the week. My nerves were on hyper mode, as I had asked one of my friends, Olivia, to go for a spree in the park with me earlier this week. She accepted, and ever since then the wires in my head simply were frayed.

It was a date, only she didn't know that.

Not to sound obsessive or anything.

It went decently well, and by nine o'clock she was at home, safe and sound. I was in a glowing mood, and I felt nearly unstoppable as I whistled down the block to my house with my heart in my hand and my palms in my pockets. It was probably the highest I felt in a long time… a long, long time…

And so I stumble across a dark alleyway.

I'm not a curious person, never have been. So my interests were to keep moving forward and ignore whatever was in that place, but I heard voices in there. Voices that chilled my bones to the very root and talked their way into my head, leaving me feeling vulnerable. Following that was laughter. Laughter that pitched their way to the silent solace of my mind, cracking the dignity and sanity I actually had. It was filled to the brim with liquid insanity, from which one sip would crack the surface of a diamond.

I wasn't proud to say that it scared me.

But it scared me, and would've broke even the toughest shell.

Every molecule in under my skin was screaming for me to stay away. Fear was alive in every limb, every hair and every cell of my body, yet something still pushed me forward. I was scared- rather, terrified as hell. But even that didn't sum up what I felt. I knew that if I didn't report the insane guy in the alleyway, no one would.

I'm not sure if that was the whole story, but I was willing to pretend like it was if that meant doing so.

My whole body was on edge with each step forward. I felt the tip of my dirty blonde hair stand up straighter, leaning on its peak. I knew in my heart that I might even die in here.

I guess that's what the heroes in the books feel like when they make a huge sacrifice.

But in this case, all of the sacrifices were doubled- tripled up against me.

I knew it wasn't noble in any single aspect, but I regretted choosing this past instantly. Because the person behind the cigarette was the one and only man himself;

Anthony Winds.

And his douchebag son.

I ran the hell out of that bitch place, my breath coming out in short bursts and my body leaning forward sharply. I had never been introduced to vigorous exercise with the likes of these.

You know you're out of shape when you feel like splatting onto the pavement floor after about… oh, maybe three minutes. And a half.

Whipping my head behind, my eyes scan for certain evidence that hinted at someone was trying to find me. Run after me. My brain gave me the all-clear sign, and with my heart beats pitching lower, I snuck around the border to my destination- my home.

The fanned air hit my face as soon as I walked through the door, leaving my sweaty forehead instantly relieved and free from perspiration. I collapsed onto the massive bed in my room, breathing heavily from the earlier encounter.

Why- how-

Too many questions flowed into my head, but I wasn't looking forward to think about it. Hell, I didn't even know if I wanted to answer them at all. But I knew I had to tell someone- _anyone_ that Anthony Winds and his son were not what they seemed.

Next morning, I wake up, surprised I even did at all. I would've thought I would've been too tired to sleep a wink at all, but I guess it's possible to shock yourself.

There's only one goal I'm thinking about of that day was to report Winds. I knew I was dead-set on it, and I would've done anything to get it out publicly.

Long story short, I told it to a Peacekeeper who was in alliance with Anthony. Then I was sent to juvenile prison for accusing a 'respectable man' of doing something as low as drugs.

I didn't see my parents for a month, and during that time I went through vigorous training everyday. It was like boot camp, and I hated it. So damn much.

My parents eventually bailed me out, but we were shamed. We were looked down upon as the outcasts, and our reputation got even lower… and it was all because of me.

Now I'm taught to act haughty, and high-class- basically, I have to pretend to be the opposite of myself. If I had the choice, I'd stay as the friendly, empathetic kid that many people knew and loved. But the point was, I didn't. I'm forced to be whatever I am because _I wanted to do something noble._

Now I'm looking back at all the mistakes I've made from before, in a plush, elegant room with chandeliers of great finesse. I was being sent to the Games, and I knew Anthony and his son were behind it.

Yeah, the incident might have been well over a year ago, but that doesn't change the fact that they'd take advantage of the moment when there's a Capitol Games in store. I knew it, I knew it, I _knew_ it! Of course they couldn't give up on my demise! Haven't I been punished enough?!

And according to them, no. A month of burning muscles and sweaty foreheads obviously wasn't enough to satisfy their bloodlust. And druglust, if that's even a thing.

A tall, bulky man steps into the room, who I recognize immediately to be none other than my own father. He stands with his palms pressed together and an obvious block for words.

"I-I, uh…" he begins, only to be interrupted when the next person comes in. The next _two_ people, actually. My mother, and sister Janine who is basically an exact clone of Mom.

Mother speaks up. "Now, Ryder, dear, I expect you to go throughout the Games with a sense of charm and etiquette," she says briskly, brushing a chocolate lock with her gloved hand. Her face looks one of class and no-nonsense, but that was just a necessary facade. Our family's motto was that if we wanted to be the part, we had to look and act the part.

Then again, we never would've had to 'act' the part if I just kept my mouth shut.

At a loss for words, my family was escorted away, leaving me with a hole of emptiness I couldn't compensate. I felt like I was about to succumb to loneliness until two familiar kids my age stalked into the room.

My eyes open up brightly. "Olivia. Julian!"

Olivia tackles me into an embrace, while Jules stands in the same spot he entered, obviously fuming.

"Julian?" I ask, hating the penetrating crack at the end of my sentence. "Are you okay?"

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms with a maddening gleam in his eyes. "Nah, shit," he echoes, while Olivia narrows her eyes with the bluntly spoken curse word. Jules ignores this, and throws his arms up, exasperated. "One of my best friends is being sent to a death match, when _no one_ in the Capitol deserves this!"

It's silent until Jules adds, "Well, almost no one."

"Don't get me wrong, Julian," Olivia says quickly, "I completely agree. I really do…" she looks at the floor.

"Well," I respond, my voice breaking, "I guess I'll see you on the other side."

Olivia flares up, only needing ten words to rupture her alien silence. " _No!_ Don't even _say_ that, Ryder Kane." She glares at me. "You're coming back, Kane. There is no other say about it."

"Yeah," Julian continues, not wanting to be left out. "Mark my words, we're getting you out if it's the last thing we do."

The two leave, and all my energy from before vanishes.

However, what scares me most is that Olivia and Julian always keep their promises. _Always._

* * *

" **Arrogance is weakness disguised as strength."**

 **Vitality Winters's POV (18)**

* * *

" _Rome, huh?" I smirked, tilting my head slightly towards the left, swaying my lavender hair. "That's a hot name."_

 _That bitch Rome crossed his arms haughtily, and gave off an obnoxious chuckle. "Yeah, you can thank my parents for it. After all, they had me." He had an aura of confidence about him, one I didn't like. I almost regretted hitting up a conversation with him, but I had a job to finish._

 _I looked around, searching for, perhaps, a dark alleyway. I wasn't disappointed when I find a dusk-skimmed area behind an abandoned building not far from there._

" _Say," I purred, hooking his tie between my two nimble fingers, "what about your parents?" Almost teasingly, I grazed the surface of his abdomen, making him stiffen in shock- and something else._

 _He took a breathless gasp, his Adam's apple bobbing downward. "U-Um-"_

" _Tell me." I demanded, my lustful tone immediately transferring to one of no nonsense. But then I decided it would be better to mess with my prey before I killed. I pushed Rome against the brick wall, licking my lips mockingly._

 _He groaned, fluttering his eyes shut longingly. "What do you want to know?"_

" _Everything, babe." Pressing my hand against his face, I started to trace his jawline, his neck, down to his ribcage and stomach only to stop short near his buckle. "Secrets are my specialty."_

 _Rome takes a sharp intake of breath. He gazed at me, completely ignoring the black object in my hand as he blindly lusted for what was about to come._

" _I-I... " he sighed, obviously preoccupied with my iridescent green eyes and the hand stroking his waist. "No one knows about this," he says simply, "but I found out that the Games had come to the Capitol. I don't know anything else," he added when he saw the accusing light in my eyes._

 _I figured out that it was time. "Thank you, luv," I murmur, as he leans his head back as if expecting something. Hah! He wished. I take hold of the silver blade in my back pocket, unsheathing it and letting it glint in front of the gullible boy's eyes._

" _However," I cooed, ripping myself off his paralyzed body, "I'm afraid I don't have much of a use for you, anymore." I plunge the knife._

 _His screams bounced around the alley, but there was no danger of being heard. The deed was already done. His limp body hung loosely on the ground, no more breath to be heard._

 _I doubted that anyone would find the body- I doubted even more that the Peacekeepers would trace it back to me. Even if they did, I'd just do the same thing I did with the last four men._

 _I pursed my lips confidently. It worked each and every time. Manipulating was easy- almost too easy, honestly. Each time I used my good looks and cleverness, they were fooled. I was almost getting bored with the stupidity of these boys._

 _Almost._

I grin to myself in the shade of the fancy room, replaying the events from earlier today in full color. After all, it was what got me here- after Rome's death, I devised a plan to volunteer for the Games. It was perfect. It couldn't have gone wrong at all.

Of course it couldn't- it was made by yours truly, after all.

But either way, I'm here now. On my way to the Games I've only ever watched and dreamed about. But now, at last, I'm living the reality. I'm living the Victor's journey.

And no one- not one person nor mutation will bring me down. I am unstoppable.

See, and I'm not just saying that because I am cocky and arrogant! I am completely the opposite. Weigh down the fact that I am skilled in arsenal, good-looking, and manipulative, and you'll find that what I claim about my talents are true.

However, I still need to create an excuse for my volunteering- I could say it was just to see what it felt like. It was partially true, after all. I might be able to act like an innocent, idiotic little girl. Given my 'sweet' looks and deceiving skills, I could pull off the part.

Hm. I approve of that plan, so that one was going to stay.

Pretend to be weak-willed? Check. Pretend to be easily addicted and deceived? Check, again. Pretend to be clueless and innocent, overall?

Check.

My parents walk in the room in tears, obviously not knowing or caring that I cast this 'terrible fate' upon myself. Mother wipes her cries with her handkerchief, sobbing loudly.

"Mother," I say, urging my eyes to spill tears overboard, "Father! I-I don't know why I did it!"

Mother chokes another wail, while Father noticeably shrinks in pity. "Viv, we'll get you out of this. Don't worry, dear."

I shake my head, supposedly unable to calm down. "H-How?! None of the tributes ever made it out unless they were V-Victor."

Rather than scolding me and telling me to stop crying, Father looks at me with stern eyes. "But they were tributes," he tones. "They were from the Districts. Whereas, you have Winters blood."

I wipe away my tears with the pale pink sweater they bought for me eons ago, and sniff deafeningly. "You really think so?"

"Yes."

It was a good feeling when they were escorted out, because out of all the manipulation I could do, emotional tears were my weaknesses.

Not that I had many weaknesses. Hmph; even my weaknesses would be considered strengths by the manner they were used, anyway.

Realizing that the room had gone quiet almost immediately, I nervously began to fumble with the ring I forgot I had on my right hand. It was a pretty, luminous gold shade with small crystals encrusted around the border.

Oh! I could say that the ring was my token, considering that I forgot all about bringing a keepsake with me. I could just say the ring was from my loving boyfriend, or some BS like that.

And they'll believe anything; the Capitol is so easy to fool.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to get out. I was suffering from major writer's block, issuing out reminders to review, and collaborating on one of the biggest projects I've ever done.**

 **AND EVEN AFTER LIEK A WHOLE WEEK I ONLY GET OUT 2700 WORDS?! WTF, BROOKE?!**

 **I'm not sure how I felt about this chapter. Writing collab tributes is really hard, especially if you have two different forms to divulge information out of. I actually really enjoyed writing Vitality; she's perfect to the plot. Thank you so much for the tributes, Wizard, Reader, and Michael!**

 **Now for an important announcement: If you haven't found out already, Ansley and I are doing a collab. OMFG?! DA HOLY HELL?! BUT CHU BOTH HAS DEH MAIN SYOT! While that's true, we both just had the idea one day. ._. And that happened. The SYOT is called The War of Virtues, and if you'd submit that'd be FRACKING PERFECTTT. You can send up to two tributes.**

 **I'll still be updating on this SYOT mostly regularly, of course. But if updates take longer, then TWoV is to blame.**

 **I guess that's all for the A/N! On to the questions.**

 **#1. Who do you like better?**

 **#2. Why?**

 **#3. Predictions?**

" **Ew, what the hell is that?!"**

 **My sister when she Googled 'The Weeknd'.**


	8. IT'S HALF-TIME, WHOOP!

**This is What Happens When I Tell My Friend (Winnie) the Official Tributes for the Second Capitol Games...**

Lalo Ayers: Ew gross! It's like you're telling someone to lay low! "HEY YOU LAY-LOW!" "OKAY!" - **CreativeAJL**

Kuna Grace: Ha-kuna matata. KUNA MEANS WORRY - **Jms2**

Pathons Ester 'Helen Bedd': Sounds like panther. PUMA SHIRT PANTHER SHIRT :D. Now I don't even know if this person is a guy or girl - **Ripple237**

Antigone Valance: sounds like agony. anti-gone SPRAY WHOOHOO - **Annabeth-TheTributeThatLived**

Grayson Kie: reminds me of fifty shades of gray (WHAT?!) - **abbycoraby123**

Magenta Firewall: really brah? WHY ARE BOTH PEOPLE FROM SECTOR THREE NAMED AFTER COLORS?! - **Ripple237**

Anthony 'Tony' Castalette: WAY TOO COMMON - **WizardDemigodGladerGatekeeper**

Aurora Blanketswig: still too common. (NO ITS NOT) YEAH IT IS. Blanketswig? Really? - **IVolunteerAsAuthor**

Jason County: THE EGG :D - **StellaSlomp**

Luna Roper: I like it. IT MEANS MOON - **Fangirl Moustache**

Ryder Kane: ...reminds me of Tangled - **WizardDemigodGateKeeper AND Reader Castellan (Combined tributes, 'cause they're so alike!)**

Vitality Winters: it doesn't really sound like a name. Reminds me of vitamins - **The Awesome Novice Writer**

David Anderson: I remember a guy I knew named David in New Jersey... I hope he dies - **CreativeAJL**

Rena Moore: cool I know a person named Rena. - **abbycoraby123**

Lino Arkus: ... No. Just no. I honestly have nothing to say to this because I think that... I DONT EVEN KNOW I AM SPEECHLESS - **20**

Calicia Austritus: you wouldn't be able to pronounce her first name the first time and her last name sounds like a disease from on Austria - **20**

Vinyl Endray: isn't vinyl a real word? - **The Awesome Novice Writer**

Laurel Selkirk: it's very fancy (YOU ALREADY KNOW) I like the first name but sorta not the last… - **domgk115**

Brysen Lorino: it's a really cool name - **TheEmeraldQueen**

Cavanaugh Jones: the last name is too common but the first name is so fancy (YOU ALREADY KNOW, AGAIN) - **IVolunteerAsAuthor**

Mars Hargeon: It's cool. He's named after a Roman god - **We're All Okay**

Savannah Callahan: ITS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL NAME EVER I LOVE IT DOOD - **20**

Mykal Cormac: he sounds like a nice guy... I guess. - **TheEmeraldQueen**

Kaia Linett: she reminds me of the American Girl Kaya. I know it's spelled differently but... Oh well. She sounds cool, maybe I don't even know anymore - **CreativeAJL**

* * *

 **A/N: Half time! Yay! :D I think I'll be taking a hiatus for about two weeks or so on this story. I have a super rad idea for it and all, but zero motivation. You know? The reason I have this as the 'chapter' is because I'm too lazy to post actual story, which is why I have to legalize this document real quick. But before I do that, here's a few questions.**

 **#1: Favorite District as of now?**

 **#2: Favorite tribute as of now? (Don't you dare say your own tribute. I know all you bias little craps are gonna do something like that.)**

 **#3: Least favorite tribute as of now?**

* * *

 ** _Katniss Everdeen; 16_**

Oh, my God. Peeta is in his bakery, holy hell. His buns are out nice and fresh, steaming from the oven as he packs the bread into a bag and leaves it on a counter for someone to pick up. I knead him to be my boyfriend. I loaf him so so so much! Well, actually, he's already my boyfriend, only he doesn't know it yet. Oh, rye won't he notice me?!

#WhenYou'reDrunkAndYouKnowIt


	9. Through the Woods - Sector Seven

**Goodbyes - Sector Seven**

* * *

" **If Life is the sea, I am the boat with anchors. I will not float away."**

 **David Anderson's POV (16)**

* * *

You know when you have those moments, contemplating about your feeble existence? Well, I was having one of those. What was the word… exist… existence…

Ah, yes, there it was. Existential crisis.

Well, anyway, one of those were happening to me right now. In fact, they started earlier today, when I was Reaped - for the fucking Hunger Games! Who would've ever thought that something as outrageous as _that_ would've come to the Capitol?! I swear, this shitty place is retarded as hell. You're supposed to be guarding your city's rights; not go against them and try to mass-murder all their children.

But really, when you come to think about it, I'm just another person. Out of what is _millions_ of Capitolite tributes, I don't think the government really cares about my life. They're probably thinking, _Oh, it's only twenty-four kids out of thousands. We're fine._

Oh, yeah. _They_ might be fine, but I'm obviously not. I'm sick of this crap! Don't they understand that I'm just a simple kid who wants to live their damned life in peace?! They should've rigged the Reapings or something and took some Capitolite with a tragic backstory; now that's some sob-story for the Hunger Games right there. And for some reason, it's always the sob-story that works the best in those Games.

Honestly, it's some BS. Why does tragedy make a person a contender? I could be just the same person without the dramatic background and no one would give a second glance. It's stupid, I tell you. I guess I never really thought of it before, but now that I'm actually in the situation, I'm completely fed up. You know what? I'm gonna prove that you don't need a crappy backstory to win the Games. Because you don't. Either way, winning isn't gonna be _that_ hard. Bet all these wimps would be too scared to even lay a finger on me...

I start to realize that I've been continuously clenching my fist over and over again, so I look down with a snarl, keeping my grip on my fingers until they turned white. The tributes won't know what hit them in the Arena…

The door creaks open, revealing most of my family. My mom, my dad, and my sister, Adrianna stand in the doorway, their actions slow, hesitant, and reluctant. Mom clicks her tongue while shaking her head, and Dad crosses his arms and looks downward.

"Holy shit." Adrianna says, paling noticeably all while shaking her head at fifty miles per hour. Usually, Mom would charge her a dollar in the swear jar, but I guess desperate times call for desperate measures.

"Y-You're leaving. They're taking you. You're _gone."_ Her usually sweet and angelic face morphs into one of sorrow, and she makes muffled sounds that sound like crying. "N-No, David, they can't take you…"

I take a good look at my little sister now. She's obviously expressing genuine grief, but I don't know why. I've never payed any attention to her in our juvenile years, so why would she be sad that I'm gone? I need to understand! Suddenly, I regret the years I've spent ignoring her, but again, _I don't know why._ Spending time with my friends, picking fights and making jokes are the best thing I could've done with my teen years. Right?

Oddly enough, I feel like crying. But I can't. I don't cry.

"Adrianna, why the hell are you being so nice to me?!" I demand, shifting my face into one of accusation, however misleading it may be. I felt broken inside, I really did; but who really cares? No one does. Nobody wants to see an emotional David.

"I-I just -" She stutters, but I cut her off again. She gawks at me, hurt showing through the etches and pores of her face. _And I don't care_ , I tell myself.

"You just what? Adri, I've never been nice to you, which means I don't want you to be nice to _me._ " I say, spitfire lining the edge of my tongue, making every word painful and agonizing for her. "I. Don't. Care."

"Jesus, David!" she screams, curling her fingers together and forming a fist at her sides. "You know what?! I tried to be kind to you, all these fucking years, but you don't ever give a shit about it!"

"Adri! That's a dollar in the swear jar," my mother says half-heartedly, but it's plain to see that Adri doesn't hear or care.

"Fuck the swear jar! I'm done with your crap! If you actually hate me that much, I'm fine with it! I'll enjoy your death on television if that's all it is."

Involuntarily, my mouth gapes open. Out of all the things she would say, I didn't know she would talk it that far. Adrianna, my patient, sweet sister. She would never - she could never -

"Yeah, shit. I've tried, but when trying doesn't work all that there's left to do is to _give. Up."_ She unclenched her fist and stomped out the door, her footsteps leaving a violent ringing in my ears.

Oh, my God. Why do this to myself?!

"Damnit!" He exclaims, biting down his tongue. "I didn't think - no, they didn't - but they did -"

"Get to the point," I snap, a little bit angry with all the stuttering. Hey, it's not my fault that I've been through a drama ride throughout this entire day. It's not my fault that in a week, I'm going to watch as people I've known for just days die before my eyes.

"David!" My mother shouts, slamming her hand down on the nearest surface; a sheened, elegant nightstand made out of glass. "Give your father a break. He wants to give you sentiment, and you're not gonna let him, even before you die?!"

Silence falls over the room like a thick blanket, and it's completely obvious I'm fuming. Before I _die?!_ I'm fucking immortal!

"Oh, honey," she whispers, her eyes widening in shock. "I didn't mean that. I love you. But -"

"But what?!" I retort snappily. "Okay, great. I've had all my family members insult me in the past - oh, five minutes. And I'm being sent to an Arena to kill some other kids. I have the right to yell at you."

"No, you don't. I'm your moth -"

"I'd appreciate some tips right now, so I can actually _come back_ to my loyal family, right?! But no. Instead, y'all crush me down and dissuade the thought that I can actually win. Some _loyal_ family you are," I flare, digging into the mental wound with a salt-covered knife.

"David, I'm done. If that's the way you want it to be, your mother and I with leave," Dad speaks calmly, reassuring my mother as he holds her hand.

"Yes. That's exactly how I want it to be, thank you. After all, it can only get better without you." As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them.

The door clicks closed, and only the ominous silence is left in the dark room. I don't expect anymore visitors after _that_ dramatic scene, but it happened to be that I was wrong.

Paula and Jameele come into the room, silently mocking the room's bright colors and designs. The both catch sight of me, and gasp openly at the same time.

Jameele leisurely strolls to my side, while Paula sprints with a slightly disguised eagerness.

"Okay, I can guess and predict a lot of things," Jameele the self-proclaimed psychic says, "but there was no way for me to know that you were gonna get Reaped."

"Seriously!" Paula agrees, trying to feel conjoined with the conversation. "If he knew, then we would've busted ya out of the Capitol and into, like, one of the Districts or something."

I quirk my mouth towards the sides. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Also, David, remember when we made that bet on that tribute from Four?" Paula bubbles, grabbing my hand and shaking it enthusiastically. "Yeah, I betted that if she won you'd kiss me. She ended up winning, and I still don't have my ki -"

Jameele interrupts her, snorting and looking upwards, as if reminiscing about the good times. "Oh, man! Do you recall that one time you picked a fight with that dude twice your age and height?! You still beat him though, and turned out he was a wuss. Good days, those were, right?"

"Yup," I agree, nodding my head in compliance. "Lil' shit, he was. I bet he ran away crying afterwards." We both laugh, while Paula simply tugs on one of her hair strands awkwardly. She suddenly turns around and catches me looking at her, and quickly glances away and turned a whole different shade of red.

We just continue on like this, talking about earlier days in our friendship. When it's time for them to leave, I feel the uplifted part of me dehydrate and wilt.

"Haha," Jameele jokes listlessly. "I guess we're gonna have to leave."

"Yeah," I say, not showing them how disappointed I actually was. "Yeah, okay. Bye. See you."

Paula gives me an apologetic **(A/N: A-PAULA-GETIC ;))** , wistful smile as she turns around and walks out the door completely.

Was it bad that I was going to miss them more than my family?

* * *

" **If you can't handle me at my worst, then you don't deserve me at my best." Marilyn Monroe**

 **Rena Moore's POV (16)**

* * *

"Jesus, this has to be a joke. You can't actually be serious!"

The Peacekeeper tightens her grip on my arm, making sure to lock her steely grey eyes with my blue ones. "No, it's not. If you just learn to accept that, maybe the consequences will be lesser."

I laugh, immediately hating the hopeful and ashamed undertone of it all. "This is all a prank, right? Y-Yeah, it is… I-I gotchu, fam…"

She cuts off her steady pace, and halts to a stop at once. "Listen to me," she seethes, pointing one of her nimble fingers on the bridge between my eyes. "You're going to the Hunger Games, kid. I'm sick of your attitude. Nothing is gonna get you out. _Nothing,"_ the Peacekeeper repeats, swiping the air in a no-nonsense fashion the moment I tried to speak up. "Not money, not food, absolutely nothing. So shut your damn mouth."

A second later, she had returned to her brisk, leisurely pace while I was forced to catch up in the back, mouth gaped open. How dare she speak to me this way! M-My parents could launch her in court easily. Didn't she know this?

I was tossed into a sleek, glossed room after a minute of walking, left all alone with the brass ornaments and antique cabinets. The paintings were brimming with luscious oil sculpts and strokes of color; usually I'd enjoy every ounce of them, but now wasn't the time.

I would never understand why I had been thrown into the Arena; me, out of all the people in Sector Seven! I had always been a good girl, and even in my teenage years that did not change. It was unfair, and even my worst enemy would agree with my words. It just didn't make any sense.

I didn't want to hurt anyone. I was simply a 16 year-old girl who's lived a decent life until now. If I wanted to live, I'd have to fight - and as much as I didn't want to do it, it was something necessary. The audience wants - needs- blood, so I'll give them it. Just - hopefully not too much, because I'm not sure I could muster up the courage to do so.

I may seem heartless, I may seem cruel. But I don't care what I _seem_ like. I am who I want to be, and as long as I'm okay with myself, I'm okay.

Hearing footsteps down the hall, I poke my head out the door to see none other than my parents. _They must be coming to see me for the last time,_ I thought bitterly. However, I quickly shut down that thought because whatever I believed would come true if I thought about it long enough. And the last thing I needed was pessimism before the Games.

I silently crossed my fingers that my parents would actually be decent, caring, and understanding; everything they never were in my childhood.

Two people walk into the room, fascinated by the objects and completely ignoring the daughter in front of them. It's long before they notice what they came in for; a girl who just so happens to be their child.

"Oh, baby!" My mother cries, tucking back her jewel-encrusted bangles and wiping her eyes with an expensive handkerchief. Her electric-blue hair tickles my face, making me so much more annoyed than I was already.

"Mom," I mutter, only to raise my voice when she doesn't listen. "Mother!"

"Y-Yes, dear?" she replies, dabbing at her eyes pretentiously. She pretends to stutter - she actually has the nerve! - and says, "I-I'm so sorry, sweetie; I can't let my flower go to the Gam-"

I raise my hands up in an exasperated manner; I _am_ exasperated! "Mom, my life isn't your soap opera! If we're all honest with ourselves, you couldn't care less. I'm just your doll. A living doll."

"Don't say that! You know it's not true!" She protests weakly.

I simply shake my head. "You know, out of all the horrible things you can be, I never expected you to be a liar." I watch as her lips pry open to reveal a fake expression of shock, and secretly take pride into finally saying something.

"You're the only child I have, Rena," she whispers, her eyes dwelvving into my conscious and making me unnecessarily guilty. "The only one I would ever want."

"Whatever," I roll my eyes.

I think she's privately sad that I was an only child. I was the only doll she could play with, so she decided to make do with me. Because in her eyes, more children meant more pets!

My father was worse, however. He didn't care, nor did he even pretend to care. "My daughter… in the Games?"

My mother started sobbing, as if I meant anything to her? Yet Dad still kept a cool and nonchalant expression. "Rena, my daughter! She'll be in the tabloids and on television all across Panem!" he exclaimed, making my face twist in anger. "These Games are guaranteed to be excellent, don't you think, Maureen?"

I felt like I was about to explode; my parents were the most shallow people I have ever met. And the day that I had hope that they would maybe be kind, they were completely the opposite. And more idiotic than ever before.

I wanted to escort them out myself, but right then the Peacekeeper from before muttered, "Time's up," and took them out of the now-silent room.

Almost a ten minute period span occurred before my next visitor came - and to be honest, I didn't expect anyone else. Out of family drama, I almost forgot about my own best friend.

Well, I wouldn't say best friend. Perhaps, mere acquaintance? I wasn't sure what to call her. I hung out with her sometimes, but that was only for information.

Tillia Sperks had a habit of smiling creepily, sharpening knives in public and setting fires. She had been sent to juvenile camp a number of times, and each time returned unscathed. Her father was a rich man who had documents on everyone in the Sector, which was the only reason I was friends with her in the first place. I didn't want to use her - but I mean, anything for the secrets. If she wasn't the daughter of a detective, I would've never approached her that day, months ago.

"H-Hey, Tillia," I say weakly, trying to wave in a friendly fashion while my mind protested against it harshly. Part of me wanted to order her out, but another part said to end this relationship on good terms.

"Hi." Tillia grins, balling up her fists. "So, you're being sent to the Games."

"Yeah dumbass, if you haven't noticed, I'm in a freaking train cart saying goodbye to all my 'loved ones'," I mutter under my breath, secretly hoping she'd take the hint and leave.

However, she didn't move an inch. "I hope you have fun in the Arena," she says gleefully, "because I would!"

I was horribly scared at this point, and every molecule in my body wanted to kick her outside. I still wasn't sure how I tolerated her psychotic attitude.

"Yeah, I'll send a postcard!" I agree, rolling my eyes all the while.

Suddenly, she was only millimeters apart. "No, I don't want a postcard. I want to be there. Experience it. Myself."

I didn't understand where she was getting at, until I saw the pocket knife in her palm.

"GUARDS!" I screech, kicking her stomach and backing away from her. "YOU LITTLE BITCH!"

"I've always wanted to do that," she snorts, trying to pin my arms down and stab my wrists. "You were always… such a brat."

She laughs maniacally as she is forced out the door, a chorus of high-pitched sounds piercing the ceiling and eardrums. She desperately tries to attack the storming Peacekeepers, writhing in their arms, but with a loud _crack_ the girl is silenced.

I try to steady my racing heart, but to no avail. All I was feeling was gratefulness; grateful that I would miss no one in Sector Seven. grateful that I was alive.

After all, how embarrassing would it be if my funeral plaque said I died before the Games?

* * *

 **A/N: Hi! The hiatus is finally over, thank goodness for some people. :p Updating schedules will return back to normal, with maybe a little bit of a pause here and there. Either way, yay! We're almost done with the Reapings! :D I'm excited to write for S8, to be completely honest. 20's given me amazing tributes. I CAN WORK WITH THEM WONDERFULLY.**

 **Anyway, thanks to Abby and Ansley for Rena and David! I hope you thought the way I wrote your tributes was at least decent.**

 **REVIEW, DAMNIT! xD Has my writing gotten worse? I know I shouldn't base this off of them, because reviews don't determine if a story is good or not, but still. I understand that some people are busy, but at least drop a review here and there to let me know you're still reading. Or PM me, either way works! After all, there's no point in writing if no one reads, am I right?**

 **I've also been thinking of quitting TSCG, but I decided against it because of all you lovely people and I have too many good ideas to simply stop here. Jeez.**

* * *

 _WHICH TRIBUTE DID YA LIKE BETTER?!_

 _WHY?!_

 _PREDICTIONS FOR THESE TRIBUTES?!_

 _BONUS: DO YOU LIEK KATZ_

* * *

 **Anyway, thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed, blah blah blah. ONWARDS, AOSHIMA! *points to the sunset***


	10. Weaving the Holes - Sector Eight

**Sector Eight - Goodbyes**

* * *

" **How can I trust myself is if all I know is how to put on a disguise?"** **Lino Arkus's POV (18)**

* * *

I can imagine what other tributes feel when they are Reaped; in fact, I always do. Terrified, maybe even in a state of mental paralyzation. Sobbing, perhaps. Some are oblivious to the fact that they are going into a death match. But very few are seen not giving a shit, or not knowing how to react. I am one of the few people who don't know how to react. Spending so much time in the Capitol's acting business, I know that my role in most movies would be me tearing up but 'staying tough', as they say it. But once again, spending time in the acting business kind of kills one's independent personality. I know who I am - a shy, prudent and pessimistic actor. But I could hardly take this title out in public, because everyone knows me as the brilliant, handsome actor who is loved by the Capitol. If I am so loved, why the hell would I be _Reaped?_ If I am the Capitol's pet, why would they want to kill their little precious puppy off? Because they're little assholes, of course. In fact, why the hell would the government bring the Games to its own province and kill their children off?! In this posh little room, there's nothing to do except wait. Wait for my parents, wait for my friends, wait for Hernandus. No, wait - my parents are all the way in the Capitol on their acting tour. Probably out drinking, getting wasted, being ignorant of their successful son that just got Reaped. The door clicks open, and out steps my supposed girlfriend, Sophianna. It's never been said that we were officially dating, but the media won't care as long as they have something to gossip on. "My poor, sweet Lino," she coos, standing as far away from me as possible. There's a spark of idiocy in her eyes, and by the way she was standing it seemed like she thought being Reaped was some sort of sickness - despite the fact she was 19, out of Reaping age. "You'll totally make it back out alive," she said. Judging from the fact that her eyes were averting fiercely, I horribly doubted that she truly believed in her statement. It hurt my brain to think of how she got her acting career when she couldn't even utter a single lie without showing some sign of doubt. "I'm sorry, I can't deal with you, not today," I mutter, simultaneously while calling for security.  
She has the nerve to look shocked. "B-But baby! You can't just push me away! No, Lino! I love you! Call me back!" The closing noise of the door is relieves my bitterness as she is escorted out. God, she is so stupid. I'm not even sure why I put myself through the torture of tolerating Sophianna. Hernandus comes through the door, and I remember why. His hair looked frayed and his eyes unfocused, yet alert at the same time. He smiled as soon as he saw me looking at him, and immediately threw his arms around my neck for a quick peck. I smiled against his lips, and thought of how horrible it'd be if there were cameras in here. They'd know that I was - they'd know of my real sexuality, and my social status would be ruined. Ugh - am I seriously thinking of this _right now?_ I'm such an selfish asshole. This is the last time I'm gonna ever see Hernandus, and I'm worrying about my reputation. I feel a wave of guilt wash over me, so I push my boyfriend away gently. He senses my unease, and opens his mouth to speak when suddenly another voice pitches through the walls. It was nasally and feminine, and seemed to match the one of my District partner. "Quit it, will you?! You guys are _seriously_ so loud, and I'm trying to _meditate_ here! I get the last-minute-I-don't-want-to-be-a-virgin, but can you just do _it_ quieter?!" The first thought I had was, "It wouldn't be the first time, technically." I was a bit ashamed of what my reaction thought was, and this showed through my cheeks, making them a bright red. Hernandus rolls his eyes bluntly. "You're stupid." "I know." He chews on his lower lip uncomfortably. "You know you can try. Being sent to the Games isn't immediate death." "Yeah. I know." 

* * *

" **Don't you wish your girlfriend was a** _ **freak**_ **like me?"** **Calicia Austritus's POV (18)**

* * *

I'm still not sure what just happened. Some Capitolite called my name, and naturally I stood up and waved at the crowd fabulously. They all stared at me, gape-mouthed, as if I was being sent to some death tournament. They were all so twinning. Just the same blank, dumb look on each of their faces. It was like they were possessed! Some crazy bat shit. And then these big, buff, hot guys came over and brought me to this super cool, fancy room. It's even more pink than my own room! And that's _impossible!_ I self-consciously went over my looks in a mirror I brought. White ash, silver locks. Luscious cerulean eyes. Creamy peach skin. Super hot, as usual. I asked them, "Why am I here?" And instead of actually replying, one of the guys snickered and said, "she's so dead." My face was all, what the fuck? I can't die. My dad bought me life insurance. Speaking of my dad, my family came in a little bit after the buff dudes left. My dad told me that he was going to see me again in his girly, nasally voice. Mom was the gossiping bitch as usual. "Did you hear? They're starting the _Capitol Games."_  
"That hot movie star actor just got Reaped with _you_ , Calicia, hon! You should be honored!" My sister, Enoch, said that she would try to kill me as much as possible. Which doesn't make any sense at all, because if she touched me, I'd cut her! I'd cut her like the naive, gullible bitch she is! And finally, Iunia, my personal, popular pet. She was the best of them all. Defying everyone in the family except me. So reckless, so unstable, yet so adorable! Probably the smartest person out of the whole family. ...except for me, of course. When they left, each family member was walking out without a care. All except Iunia, for some reason. She acted like she was leaving a dear memory behind in the dust. She looked like she was crying, and kept saying, "No, Calicia! You have to survive!" Whatever. I ignored it, like I usually ignore her ridiculous theories and actions. Next, my 'friends' came in. They're the most popular squad in my whole school. I'm actually too good for them, but if I say that, they'll ditch me and I'll become a weird trash-digging loner. "Hey, girlfriends!" I squeak, my wonderful high-pitched voice forming words. "Omigod, Calicia!" Aurelia squeals. "I can't believe you just won the _lottery!"_ Demetria rolls her eyes back so harshly that I swore she was going to detach her eyeballs. "Holy _shit, Aurelia!_ " she exclaimed, her voice going up several octaves. "I swear, you're the most stupidest person I've ever met. Why am I friends with you?!" "B-Because I give you Skittles, Deme. I-I didn't know you felt this way." Tears start to bubble in Aurelia's eyes. Ooh, unnecessary drama. I like it! Deme decides to ignore her tears. "Ari, Calicia's is _not_ winning the lottery. She is going to _die._ She's been Reaped into the Hunger Games, you bitch!" Cloelia, the main bitch, steps into the conversation. "Hey, only I get to call people bitches!" Despite being blunt and 'her own person', Deme widens her eyes in fear and steps back. "I-I'm so sorry, C-Cloelia," she stammers, her hands shaking. "Save it." Cloelia rolls her eyes, snapping her pristine, white fingers in an orderly manner. The look in her eyes said she was going to kick Deme out of the cult, but each of us knew she wasn't ever going to do that. Despite the amount of popularity she held to her name, we were still going to be her only friends. After a few minutes of all this dramatic banter, they exit, leaving me with the knowledge that I was entering the Hunger Games. _The Hunger Games._ A shiver runs down my spine. I was arrogant, foolish, and explosive, yes, but I knew Hunger Games meant the certain death… ...of my shoes! Think of all the _freaking_ blood on my _shoes!_ Suddenly, a noise that sounded awfully like _kissing_ erupts into my ears. I knew someone was making out. ""Quit it, will you?!" I screamed, still a bit salty and bitter about the future of my shoes. "You guys are _seriously_ so loud, and I'm trying to _meditate_ here! I get the last-minute-I-don't-want-to-be-a-virgin, but can you just do _it_ quieter?!" The noises stop, leaving only silence in my ears. _Thank you_ , I thought stubbornly. A few seconds pass. There is nothing but dull, and absolute silence. I can't take this anymore. I'm going outside. The door is locked, but with a few twists of my hairpin, the key is made and the door is busted open. I am a fucking professional. As soon as the barrier is open, voices and sounds become alive in my ears. It was as if this door was guarding something private outside. Ooh, secrets! "-sorry, I didn't mean it - I already told you that!" a feminine voice protests, rising up every few seconds in fear. "I swear, it won't happen again next year. I promise. I'll choose the tributes exactly like you told me to! "I was stubborn. I know the girl was a Reaping mistake, but the boy? The boy was pure! Surely you'll give me credit for that?  
"Oh, thank you so so much! Thank you! I won't let you down next time! I promise, this won't happen again. You're so merciful. Thank you!" The phone hangs up, and a huge sigh is heard. Is this what I think it is?

* * *

 **A/N: So… hi. It's been a long while, hasn't it?** **I know. "Back to regular updating schedule!" I said. But that was major BS. ;UU** **I've gone through some serious envy and disappointment, but fear not! I'm totally over it now and now that GOODBYES ARE OVER, WE CAN ACTUALLY GET STUFF DONE. SO SERIOUSLY, BACK TO REGULAR UPDATING! *throws confetti*** **  
And also if you tell me what you thought of this chapter, that'd be hella appreciated. Thank you. I know this chapter isn't very long or detailed, and in truth it was quite half-assed, but I got it out. Sorry, 20. Your tributes are brilliant and I just suck at** _ **actually**_ **working and** _ **not**_ **procrastinating!** **You know the questions, yadayadayada.** **I went through a period of time where I wanted to quit on this story because of the reviews and lack of inspiration, but I decided not to. Because it sucks when your tribute goes to waste. And I actually DID have bucketloads of inspiration!** **AND THE GOODBYES WERE STOPPING MY FLOW OF GREAT IDEAS.** **  
But the goodbyes are over, thank goodness.** **Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this horrible chapter. Send me your thoughts and suggestions VIA review or PM. Have a super-duper-amazing-noodle-goldfish dawn/day/afternoon/evening/night/midnight!**


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